Rising Son
by Wahoogal06
Summary: Selas is looking forward to the future with unflinching optimism. He knows what he wants and is more than able to overcome any obstacles in his path to get there, which isn't really all that surprising considering he's S'chn T'gai. Follows my other ST:09 stories (especially "Forging" and "Being Se'tak").
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Welcome to Rising Son! I hope you like it. Happy Reading!

* * *

**Plans**

_** 150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco,**_** 2286.99, 1559 hours.** The house was silent save for the very low hum of appliances and the squeak of that one floorboard beneath his feet. The quiet was not unusual nor unexpected—in fact Selas quite preferred it that way. With T'Alora on her ship, Se'tak away at school and his parents at work he used this quiet time to unwind. Stepping through the entryway he paused and listened to the door fully close behind him, then hung up his jacket and dropped his book bag beside the hall tree. Checking his internal chronometer he discovered he had 7.8 minutes with which to collect a snack from the kitchen before his expected comm call.

San Francisco and it's environs were now as much Selas' home as the _Enterprise_ had been. Unlike Se'tak, he had handled the transition from the ship's classrooms to the Starfleet school much better. He was well-liked by his teachers and peers and was excelling in his studies. Selas still kept in touch with his friends from the old days—Riley, Rebecca, and Evan—and made new friends that he hung out with regularly as well. He often overheard Mama remark that he was very well-adjusted.

His plate piled high with fruit and cheese slices he made his way through the kitchen and down the hall to the office, settling himself in the great chair before the comm. A full 3 minutes passed before the machine rang out and Selas did not hesitate to answer.

"Hey, Selas."

He smiled in the direction of the screen. "Greetings, Rebecca. I trust all is well with you and your family?"

In his mind's eye he could picture her grin. "Yeah, we're good." Selas heard her flick her hair back over her shoulder. "Everything alright with you?"

"Yes. My family and I are all well."

"Glad to hear it. So I was thinking…"

"Uh oh," he teased.

"Very funny," was her retort. "Seriously though, I was thinking I'm kind of overdue for a visit to San Francisco. It's been awhile since I came out and hung out with you and Riley."

"It has been 4 months, 3 days, 16 hours and 28 minutes since we were last in each other's company."

Rebecca giggled. "Not like you were keeping track or anything, huh? Anyhow, I talked to Riley and she said I could come and stay with her next weekend, so the question is will you be around too or do you already have plans?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I will have to consult my social calendar and get back to you."

"Wise ass!" she cackled. For several seconds she laughed uproariously on the other end of the line. "Does anyone else know what a strange sense of humor you have or it is just me?"

Selas smirked at the screen. "I believe there are a few who are, as you would say, 'in the know'. What time will your transport arrive?" They continued talking over the details of her impending visit for another 7 minutes before she had to relinquish the line for her mother. He terminated the call and began making plans for himself, Rebecca and Riley the following weekend. They had not visited the zoo in quite some time…

* * *

_**150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco,**_** 2286.105, 1912 hours.** Selas excused himself after supper and returned to his room to complete his physics homework. Twenty minutes later he heard the comm chime and assumed it was Se'tak, only to quickly discover his error.

"Selas!" Mama called from the bottom of the stairs.

Saving his work he rose and stuck his head out the bedroom door to answer her. "Yes?"

"Becca's on the line for you." Confused, he rushed down the steps. "She seems upset," Mama added as he brushed past.

Feeling along the wall for the door he reached the office and stepped forward toward the desk, then around to the chair. "Rebecca?"

"Hey, Selas." He concurred with his mother that she did indeed sound disappointed—but what about? "Listen, I just wanted to tell you I won't be able to come out this weekend after all. Riley's grandmother passed away and they're going to Oklahoma for the funeral so…" her voice trailed off.

"That is most upsetting; I will send my condolences to Riley. But why must you cancel your trip? I am certain that Mama and Sa-mekh will allow you to stay with us. You may use T'Alora's room."

He heard her heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "Thanks, but you know how my Dad feels. He'll never go for it…"

Selas pushed back the irrational swell of anger that rose up within him as she spoke. At the time he was too young to understand where his uncle's prejudice toward him came from but now he understood all too well. It was because of what transpired (or very nearly transpired) between Se'tak and Tabitha—and though his sa-kai had not gone into details on the subject as Selas grew older he was able to surmise the truth. For that reason alone Uncle Leonard barely tolerated his and Rebecca's friendship and, if known, would not allow her to spend a single night under the same roof despite the presence of his parents and the fact that they would be placed in separate bedrooms. "He does not need to know. Is he aware of the change in circumstances regarding Riley and her family?"

"What?" She blew her nose. "No, he's not home yet, he's working late."

"Then ask your mother if you may stay at our house. I will also go and inquire of mine."

"Alright." She did not sound optimistic, however, before he even left the room Selas knew his mother would agree; the new arrangement, therefore, rested solely on Aunt Christine giving her permission. When Rebecca returned to the comm he knew the answer was a favorable one. "She said yes! Well actually, what she said was 'what your father doesn't know won't kill him'."

"That is a remarkable imitation of Aunt Christine."

"Well I _am_ her daughter," she bantered back.

"That is also true."

Rebecca laughed and her lightness of spirit made him happy as well. "So I'll see you Friday at 4 then? At the transport station?"

"I will be there."

"Great!"

* * *

_**150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco,**_** 2286.107, 1552 hours.** He stepped off the hoverbus onto the concrete walkway outside the transport station. Moving away to let other passengers off Selas stood still and tilted his head trying to orient himself through all the ambient noise.

:::_luggage rolling past_:::

:::_steady clacking of a pair of woman's heels on the pavement_:::

"What? Yes, I know, I'm on my way, the transport is late." :::pause::: "Well then just stall the meeting!"

:::_child whining_:::

:::_a man jogging past, brushing against his shoulder_::: "Hey, watch it, bud!"

:::_horns beeping, sound of flitters stopping short_:::

:::_PADDs being shuffled_:::

:::_a baby crying_:::

"But Mommy, I want a ice cream!

:::_exasperated sigh_::: "Ronnie, not now! Now come on—we have to go change your sister."

:::_air brakes, more car horns, churning engines_:::

:::_static from overhead speaker_::: "Transport 3371 to Dubai will be departing in 5 minutes from Terminal H. Transport 9652 now arriving from Guadalajara in Terminal F."

:::_hiss of penumatics repeatedly opening and closing_:::

Locating the front doors he pointed his laser cane in that direction and strode on through. Rebecca's transport was due to arrive at Terminal C and he moved purposely through the throng in that direction. He heard several people stop short so as not to get in his way, but the most amusing part of the entire excursion was the little girl who spotted him and asked in a very loud voice why the boy was wearing his sunglasses indoors. Selas listened as the mother duly explained the situation, then he turned in the little girl's direction, smiled and waved, and she gasped in surprise at his notice.

He arrived at the terminal and located a seat on the bench to await Rebecca. The transport was on-time and within minutes passengers were streaming out into the terminal chatting away with one another and paying him no mind. Selas sat patiently on the hard plastic chair and breathed deep. Rebecca now favored a fresh linen and cherry blossom body spray and he waited for her scent to waft past as she drew closer, hoping to sense her approach before she had the opportunity to surprise him.

His senses did not fail him.

She came up from behind on tiptoe but her perfume and the squeak of the chair as she leaned over betrayed her. "Good afternoon," he said coolly.

"Damn!" Rebecca scrambled over the chairs separating them, her bracelets jangling on her wrist, and took a seat beside him while giving him a hug. "How'd you know it was me?"

Selas grinned. "I have my ways."

"More like you have your super powers." They rose from their seats and she carefully linked her arm through his before stopping short. "You grew."

He made her stand so that they were back-to-back and he traced his hand over the top of her head. "Indeed I have. You are 1.7 meters tall whereas I am now 1.82."

"If you say so." She poked him in the ribs. He was muscular but lean, just like his sa-mekh. "But you're getting too skinny. You need to eat. Now come on," Rebecca tugged on his arm, "Let's go get my bags and then get you a snack."

Selas furrowed his brow. "Bags? Rebecca, you do know that you are visiting for the weekend, correct? You were not invited to move in with us…"

She threw her head back and laughed and they quickly went to retrieve her luggage. On the hoverbus ride back home they caught up on the latest personal news but it was not until they were near his home that she disclosed the true reason for her visit.

"Would you mind terribly if I slipped away for a few hours tomorrow morning?" she asked.

"Slip away? As in for a clandestine meeting?"

Rebecca sighed. "Sort of. It's just something I don't want Uncle Spock and Auntie Ny to know about, at least not yet. Would you cover for me?"

Selas turned to her, frowning. "What activity are you preparing to engage in that you would rather my parent's remain ignorant?"

She was silent for several seconds and when she spoke next dropped her voice so low he doubted whether anyone save for himself would have heard her. "Look, I don't know about you, but my Dad's been on my case about college. He thinks I don't care but the truth is I've been thinking of joining Starfleet for awhile now. Tomorrow I want to pop over to the campus, take a tour, and talk to some people before he finds out and puts the kibosh on the whole thing; and that means not telling _your _parents because then they'll tell _mine_."

They arrived at their stop and Selas rose, tugging her along with him. "Your logic is sound—but come, there is something I must show you."

He took her wrist in his grip and led her along up the short hill and around the block to the house. His parents were not yet home and were not expected to arrive for another 25.4 minutes yet he did not want to tempt fate. Depositing her luggage just inside the door Selas urged Rebecca upstairs to his room where he made her take a seat at his desk. Reaching under the foot of his bed he withdrew 2 very battered PADDs and placed them in her lap.

There was the tell-tale swoosh of her flicking her hair back. "Ummm…"

"Um?"

"Well I don't know what else you want me to say, Selas. These PADDs are in Braille."

_Of course_. In his haste to procure them he had forgotten to put them on audio. Rectifying the situation he returned them to her and they listened as the recruitment brochure for Starfleet was read aloud. "You're thinking of joining too?!" she exclaimed.

Her enthusiasm made him smile. "I have looked into the possibility since last September and in the ensuing weeks have reached the conclusion that Starfleet is the best fit for me."

Rebecca jumped up and embraced him again. "That's awesome! Oh Selas, you have to come with me tomorrow! We'll take a tour together, talk to some professors…"

"I am afraid that I must decline the invitation," he lamented. "Numerous staff members would recognize me all too easily." Wordlessly he heard her exit the room and travel down the hall before opening one of the other bedroom doors. "Rebecca?" he called out before following her. Selas listened as she opened a dresser drawer and began rifling through some clothes. She was in Se'tak's room. "Rebecca?"

"There's got to be something in here you can use as some sort of disguise," she muttered under her breath. He leaned against the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised, but said nothing to deter her from her latest mission. She pulled an article of clothing out from the third drawer and shook it out, sending a cool blast of air his way. "Ok, this is something…"

"What is it?"

"One of your brother's sweatshirts. And we'll just borrow this baseball cap here," she said, plunking the hat down on his head, "And you'll be good to go."

Selas let out a soft sigh. The hat irritated his ears. "I do not know if this 'disguise' will be sufficient enough for our purposes, however, if you insist…"

"I do," she replied definitively.

"Then I will accompany you."

* * *

**1739 hours.** Nyota stood over the sink admiring the view out the back window. Becca and Selas were outside horsing around on the old swing like 2 peas in a pod. It made her realize that there wouldn't be too many more days of carefree play left and that all the kids grew up too fast.

"It is as they have always been since their infancy," Spock said aloud, his thoughts in tune with her own as he collected the silverware to set the table.

"Yes," she replied. Somewhat wistfully, she added, "It's a shame they don't get to see each other as often as they used to. If only Len…"

"Do not, k'diwa." He set the forks and knives down and came over to place his hand over hers on the counter. "Kaiidth. We can no more alter Leonard's temperament and opinion anymore than we can control the weather, so let us not dwell any longer on a subject that only serves to frustrate you. Leonard believes that he is doing what is necessary to protect his family and his intentions are honorable, if unjust, to our sa-fus. It is enough that Selas and Rebecca have remained close friends despite the distance and the Doctor's attitude."

She turned her gaze away from her adun and back out the window to the children. Selas said something that made Becca throw her head back in hysterical laughter, drawing a pleased smirk from her son's normally placid face. Spock was right. Giving him a kiss on the cheek she returned to the boiling water and pasta to finish the meal.

* * *

The tour the following day went well, despite the fact that they were very nearly discovered by Admirals Barnett and Pike as they made their way around the grounds. It took quite a bit of maneuvering and ducking into doorways and around shrubbery to evade them but they succeeded.

Or so they thought.

What the scheming pair did not know was that Christopher Pike had in fact spotted them, and was highly amused by the lengths they went to to keep their identities a secret. He suspected neither set of parents knew what their children intended and, though he spoke with Spock and Nyota on a daily basis, was happy to keep mum on the subject until he was no longer able.

The truth was he was secretly thrilled to see them. He was nearing retirement and while he'd seen many fine classes of recruits graduate in the intervening years none had the same spark as the class of 2258, the class that inherited his _Enterprise_. Maybe it was because those cadets had been molded by fire or maybe it was his own personal bias but none of the subsequent classes ever measured up. Rebecca and Selas were young, to be sure, and they might change their minds about enlisting, but then again they might not; and the fact that they were second generation of some of the most decorated and respected officers in the 'Fleet—well, he couldn't think of a better note to end his career on than ushering them through and seeing them graduate to take over the reigns.

* * *

**A/N:** I've seen the new movie twice now and I liked it alot. Thing is I'd already written this chapter out before the movie premiered, so...yeah. Just keep that in mind going forward. I'm purposely being vague so I don't spoil anything for anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Just wanted to thank everybody who has read, reviewed, followed and/or favorited any of my Star Trek stories in the last 2 weeks! You guys rock and you've made my month! Thank you so much!

* * *

**Departure**

_** 150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco,**_** 2286.257, 1934 hours.** Nyota sat on the living room sofa and stared at her son in dumb shock. She looked to Spock sitting beside her. _"Were you aware of this?"_

_ "I had no prior knowledge that he intended to enlist in Starfleet, no."_

"Mama? Sa-mekh? If one of you would be so kind as to say something in response…" Selas asked, still standing before them with hands clasped tight behind his back. He looked so much like Spock when he stood like that…

Inside, her heart was breaking for her little boy. Nyota thought he'd brought them together to tell them he was applying to Stanford or Princeton, not Starfleet. She and Spock had always taught Selas that he could achieve anything he wanted if he only worked hard enough but now even she thought he was over-reaching. If only they'd had some idea of what he was planning sooner, maybe they could've swayed his decision. "Selas, Sweetie…"

"Your mother and I will fully support you," Spock interjected, "However, you must prepare for the 77.7% probability that you will be precluded from admission due to your ocular condition."

Selas shifted his posture to face his sa-mekh. "I am fully aware and prepared for that possibility; I only wished to inform you of my intentions before I submitted my application rather than have you discover my plans second-hand on-campus."

"That was most considerate."

Nyota watched in utter disbelief as the two of them continued to calmly and rationally talk the situation over. She tried to find the words to speak but could do nothing more than stutter.

"Have you any questions for us pertaining to classes or regulations?" Spock asked.

Selas shook his head. "No. I have conducted my own independent research and have found satisfactory answers to all my questions. Should others arise in the future I will henceforward consult with you."

"You have been most diligent, sa-fu. That is commendable."

Her son threw back his shoulders, happy for the praise. "If you and Mama have no other questions for me than I would like to return to my room and complete my homework."

"Of course. You are excused."

She watched him make his way out of the room and up the stairs, not trusting herself to speak until Selas' bedroom door closed behind him. "Spock, how could you?!" she hissed.

He cocked his head to the side. "I do not understand. How could I what?"

"Give him false hope! The admiralty will never accept him and even if they do he'll never make it through Basic! I know what I've said in the past but even you must know the odds are stacked against him! It's wrong to encourage him like this!"

"Nyota." He paused until she had somewhat checked her indignation. "If there is one lesson I have learned from being a parent it is that we should never discount our children; I made the mistake of underestimating Selas once and I will never do so again. Just like his ko-kai and sa-kai before him our sa-fu has proven capable of surmounting any obstacle placed in his path and I am certain of his success in this endeavor. It would be to Starfleet's detriment to overlook his qualifications merely because he is blind."

"Merely? Oh Spock…" But she knew there was no way she'd be able to make him understand. Nyota felt Selas' future disappointment keenly, perhaps even more keenly than her son would even admit to feeling himself, and it pained her that Spock couldn't see it as well. She just wanted to spare her son the heartache she was sure he'd feel when he was excluded in this too.

* * *

Discreet as they tried to be Selas heard every word his parents said. Prior to gathering them together to declare his intentions he had anticipated Mama's reluctance to his scheme; it was understandable given her disinclination for seeing him disappointed and hurt. However, her lack of enthusiasm after his announcement did somewhat dampen his spirit but did not diminish his resolve. Selas knew that the likelihood of his being admitted to Starfleet was greatly diminished due to his birth defect and yet he did not want that to stop him from pursuing his dreams. He had developed an interest in anthropology after his family's ordeal on Unohdettu and it was now his greatest desire to become a leader in that field, promoting intergalactic anthropology under the Starfleet banner. Nothing would stop him from accomplishing his goals and if the Academy did not accept him he would seek an education elsewhere and continue to strive forward.

* * *

_**Admissions Office, Starfleet Academy HQ,**_** 2286.323, 1644 hours.** "This has to be a joke." When no one responded Commander Bradley Rourke looked up and glanced around the table. "Right?" He looked down again at the cadet-in-question's application. It was right there in big, bold, red lettering—the kid was NLP*.

"It's not a joke," Admiral Pike intoned from the head of the table, "In fact it's a cadet I think we should seriously consider."

"Christopher, come on…"

Admiral Barnett piped up. "Chris, you do see how a conflict of interest could be construed in this case…"

_Finally_, Rourke thought, _a voice of reason_.

"I understand, Richard, but I'm telling you that's not the case here. I'm not championing Selas' cause because of his parents; I genuinely believe Starfleet has something valuable to gain from his being admitted into our ranks. Look at the rest of his application—his IQ is off the charts, he's got telepathic abilities, he speaks several different languages, he's in peak physical fitness…"

"And none of that means a damn thing because he can't see his own nose in front of his face!"

Bradley watched Chris studiously ignore him and turn to the other seven admirals and commanders that made up the incoming admissions council. He could see in their eyes that they'd be easily swayed to Pike's way of thinking and it sickened him. _Weak-minded fools._

"In addition to his own accomplishments, Selas is the grandson of one of the foremost ambassadors in the Federation and the son of two of our most decorated officers. He's going to be an asset to the Federation one day and if we reject him someone else will easily see his potential and it'll be our loss." Rourke argued in vain for another 15 minutes before the decision was put to a vote. In the end Commanders Spock and Uhura's son was admitted by a margin of 7-2. "

_ No matter_, he thought with a sneer as he conceded the point to Pike, _They won't be at camp. I'll see to it that Cadet Selas gets the full Starfleet experience._

* * *

_**Starfleet Transport Station, San Francisco,**_** 2287.196, 1515 hours.** She unnecessarily smoothed out the lapels of his cadet reds, checked that his duffle bag was secure over his shoulder, then allowed her hands to rest a moment on his chest. Spock was right, she should never have doubted Selas; he'd been a fighter all his life and getting the education he wanted and on his terms was just another battle he'd gone and won. Nyota was only too happy to admit that she'd been wrong.

"You packed that extra sweater I left on your bed yesterday, right?"

"Of course, Mama."

"Because you never know where you'll end up that last week of training and you tend to get colder than most."

Selas smiled at her concern. "I know."

Why was she babbling? Why was she finding it so hard to let go? She'd already launched two kids on their college careers so why was this so different? _Because_, she thought, _he's my baby._

"Do your best." He was as tall as Spock now and Nyota had to stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I love you so much." She pulled him in for a fierce hug.

"I love you too and I will do my utmost to make you proud."

"You already do, every single day." Nyota was loathe to let go and had a newfound sympathy for her own parents on the day she left for training.

"Mama…"

"Alright." She eased up and leaned up for another kiss only to find Selas' cheek wet. As she looked closer she realized it wasn't his cheek that was wet but rather hers.

"I will be back in 6 weeks and then you will see me everyday at the Academy."

She chuckled at his reassurances. "And you're sure you won't mind being seen having lunch with little old me every once in awhile?"

He leaned down so that their foreheads were touching. "I am nothing but proud to be seen with you."

His earnestness touched her deeply. "Well alright then, I'll let you go…but I'm going to hold you to those lunches." One last kiss and she stepped back so Spock could have his turn.

* * *

He looked his sa-fu up and down: his posture was erect, his head was held high, and there was not a hair out of place. As he looked at him Spock was well aware of the overwhelming pride he felt swelling up in his chest. This was a great accomplishment for hi sa-fu. As a rule Spock was not prone to indulging in sentiment and yet at that moment he could not help but draw comparisons to the frail, premature infant he once cradled in the isolette against the strong young man that now stood before him. The change was remarkable.

"Du tra u lot-tor tau skan ak tau maat. Ki muhl ak hafa korsayek*," he said, reverting to High Vulcan.

"Shaya tonat, Sa-mekh; ak dungi glator hafa korsayek*."

"Dif-tor heh smusa, Sa-fu.*"

Selas returned the ta'al. "Sochya e dif, Sa-mekh.*"

Rebecca McCoy approached their group then, followed by her parents. "Rebecca. Christine. Leonard," he said with a nod to each.

"Hi, Spock."

"Afternoon, Hobgoblin."

It appeared, however, that Rebecca only had eyes for Selas and was anxiously rocking on the balls of her feet in anticipation of their journey. "Are you ready to go?" she asked, slipping her arm through his.

"Yes, I am ready to proceed." He let himself be led away toward the check-in table.

"Bye!" Rebecca shouted out with a wave over her shoulder. "See you in a few weeks!"

"Stay safe!" both mothers cried in unison.

Leonard sidled up beside him and together they visually tracked the children's progress through the check-in until they were safe aboard the transport. "Seems like just yesterday they were babies crawlin' around on the _Enterprise_," he remarked. "Can't believe how quickly they grew up."

"Indeed."

* * *

"Name, Cadet?"

"Selas, Sir."

He listened to the officer scroll through the list on his PADD. "Can you spell that for me?"

"S-E-L-A-S."

A few more clicks of the page and the man found what he wanted. "Alright, I'm going to need a thumbprint verification right here please."

Selas groped for the PADD he knew was extended toward him but could not discover it until Rebecca quietly guided his hand.

"What's the matter?" he heard a voice cry out behind him, "Wittle Baby can't sign his own entwy card?" The group around him snickered.

Rebecca's voice was full of irritation. "Ignore them."

"That is easily accomplished."

They began walking toward the shuttle when Selas disengaged his arm from hers in an effort to prove that he could reach the transport without assistance. With his laser cane to guide him he achieved his seat and stored his duffle bag overhead before strapping himself in.

"A Vulcan," the voice to his left exclaimed. "How interesting."

"Come on now," his companion replied, "Don't be like that Jamas." The second person directed his attention his way. "I'm Markus-well, Cadet Johnson now, I guess-and this is Jamas."

"Why don't you take off your glasses, Vulcan?" Jamas said, his voice containing the hint of a sneer. "You have no need of them in here."

Selas did as he was bid while beside him he listened to Rebecca settle into her seat. Folding the glasses into his hands on his lap he turned toward Jamas and Markus and heard them gasp.

"A blind Vulcan," he heard Jamas exclaim. "This just gets more and more interesting…"

Markus ignored his friend completely. "So what's your name?"

"Selas."

"Well it's nice to meet you." Selas heard the movement of fabric against the restraints. "Oh right, Vulcans don't shake hands and you…" he let the thought trail off while Jamas laughed.

"Looks like you're in for a very long 4 years, my friend!"

Rebecca leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Jamas is Andorian."

_Ahh_. His attitude suddenly made sense. While their species were mostly reconciled there were still some individuals that held a grudge. "That would explain the latent animosity."

"Maybe," she gave him a squeeze of the shoulder, "But I think he'll come around before long."

A young woman named Melissa Weinstock soon joined them and the 5 barely had time to make introductions before the shuttle took off.

* * *

* NLP = No light perception, a classification of blindness (thank you internet!)

* "Du tra u lot-tor tau skan ak tau maat. Ki muhl ak hafa korsayek" = Vulkhansu (plus a bit of my own made up stuff), "You are a credit to our family and our clan. Do well and stay safe."

* "Shaya tonat, Sa-mekh, ak dungi glator hafa korsayek" = Vulkhansu, "Thank you, father; and I will stay safe."

* "Dif-tor heh smusa, Sa-fu" = Vulkhansu, "Live long and prosper, Son."

* "Sochya e dif, Sa-mekh" = Vulhansu, "Peace and long life, Father."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Well today's my 6th anniversary here on this site and I'm spreading the joy with a special update! Woo hoo!

* * *

**Defense - Part I**

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California,**_** 2287.196, 2025 hours.** The shuttle ride to the training facility was 40 minutes in duration and throughout the ride Selas discovered that he could separate the cadets into 2 classes: the quiet, nervous ones and the high-anxiety talkative ones. He classified himself as being of the first type and was content merely to sit and listen to the chatter around him. He found the various methods used to introduce conversations amongst strangers very fascinating—it was, he admitted, his own version of people watching.

When they disembarked the ground crew ordered them to leave their duffles beside the transport and then they were immediately taken on a tour of the facility. There were the indoor and outdoor training grounds, the pools, the weapons range, the administrative building, the cafeteria, the medical center and the dormitories. In a low voice Rebecca kept up a steady description of their surroundings so that he would be better able to build his mental map and maneuver around later, for which he was very grateful.

Room assignments were disbursed after the end day meal and then the cadets were dismissed with instructions to prepare for the long day tomorrow. The dorms were where he parted company with Melissa and Rebecca and—much to Jamas' chagrin—Markus assisted him to his room. Selas entered the code only to find his billet empty. After a quick inspection he discovered 2 beds, 2 desks and 2 bureaus but only 1 duffle—his own.

Perhaps his roommate had dropped out prior to the start of basic training.

Preferring not to dwell on the subject, Selas quickly set about unpacking and making his bed. He laid his clothing for the next day over the back of his desk chair and used the small bathroom to brush his teeth before retiring for the evening.

* * *

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California**_**, 2287.197, 0038 hours.** :::woosh:::

:::click:::

:::shuffle, shuffle, shuffle:::

::::BANG!:::

"OW!"

:::heavy object falling to the floor:::

Selas sat up. "Who is there?"

"Sorry!" a young man cried out through gritted teeth. "Transport got in late. Go back to sleep, we can talk in the morning."

He complied, listening to his roommate spend the next 33.4 minutes getting his own bunk together before following him in sleep.

* * *

**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, 2287.197, 0600 hours. **The blaring sound of the red alert klaxon wrenched him wide awake and sent him jumping from his bed. His new roommate also started and tumbled onto the floor with a resounding thud. Selas did not have time to process anymore than this as his years of training aboard the _Enterprise_ kicked in. He dressed and fled the room as quickly as possible.

Judging by the muted groans and shouts of "Sir, yes Sir!" he gathered that the cadets were all gathering in the main quadrangle. He followed the voices and fell into line among them.

"—so g-ddamn early…"

"—I hope they don't make us run…"

"—thought my heart was gonna explode!"

"Please, this is nothin'! The hard part's yet to come…"

"—heard that swimming is a requirement. Do you think they'll cool the pool to accommodate…"

"Hey." The last voice was directed at him and Selas turned, recognizing his roommate's voice. "Sorry again about last night; like I said, my last transport was late. I'm Paul, Paul Adams."

"Greetings. I am Selas."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"ATTENTION!" All conversation ceased and he stood facing forward, shoulders back and chest thrust out. "I'm Commander Rourke, this is Lt. Commander Pravat, beside him is Lieutenant Oswald, and you sissies are **ours** for the next 6 weeks! Now let me start off by saying that your exit times this morning were absolutely _ABYSMAL_! A red alert does NOT mean move at your leisure, it means be at your duty stations in 3 minutes or LESS—preferably _less_! But it looks to me like you pansy-asses didn't get the memo; too many of you were strollin' out here 10, 12, 15 minutes late and that is absolutely un-ac-ceptable! And since you all still seem to be slouchin' about half dead we're gonna go for a little 15 kilometer warm up run! Now MOVE!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

Once the commanders speech was through the group turned and Selas followed the press of bodies as they began to pick up the pace. He knew he could run the 15 kilometers but with no idea of what route they were taking or what obstacles might be in his path he suspected he would end the journey highly injured; there was also the possibility that he might hurt other cadets in the process.

Just then he felt a large hand on his wrist. "Take my elbow," Paul instructed. Selas was grateful and immediately gripped his arm and allowed himself to be led. "So, where you from?"

"San Francisco, here on Earth," he replied. "You?"

"Meritani Colony—it's on this little backwater planet out in the Beta quadrant, you probably never heard of it. It's why it took me so long to get here."

"I am familiar with the colony…"

"Do I hear talking?!" Commander Rourke shouted above the pounding of hundreds of pairs of feet. "This isn't a pleasure run, ladies and gents!"

With Paul's company now being denied to him, Selas turned to carefully examining his surroundings. The ground beneath his feet changed from mossy grass to pebbles and hard dirt. There was a good breeze blowing from the west and the rustle of leaves in the trees grew successively louder as they moved onward. He concluded that they were approaching the forest that bordered the facility on the northwest side. They ran in a wide arc around the training facility before returning to their starting point 1.33 hours later.

"DISMISSED!" By that point Selas heard many people dragging their feet as they struggled to finish—a few were wheezing hard and even puking—and while Paul was winded he was still upright. "Thank you," he said as he relinquished his friend's arm.

"No problem. Say, where's a guy got to go to get some chow in this place?"

Selas turned, seeking the warmth of the sun on his face, knowing that the Mess was to the east of their current location. "The cafeteria is this way. Follow me."

* * *

Commander Rourke watched the cadets head off toward the cafeteria. Motioning to Pravat and Oswald he gestured at the retreating pair. "I want you to watch 'em—especially the Vulcan."

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. The cadets were tested on their physical fitness in the morning while the afternoon was reserved for weapons and defensive training. His technique with a phaser was fair; the stationary targets were all but impossible for him to hit without further instruction while with the moving targets he fared slightly better.

But it was in defense that Selas was well and truly challenged.

Commander Rourke had them gathered around him in a circle in the gymnasium. Selas could tell by the squeak of the man's shoe that he was standing on some sort of elevated, smooth, rubberized surface—ostensibly a fighting ring based on what came next. "Alright, _cadets_," he said with a sneer, "Let's see what defensive capabilities you have. Cadet Selas, step forward."

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and felt the rush of adrenaline course through him. "You can do it, Selas!" Rebecca whispered from nearby. He nodded then heard the people surrounding him step back and he made his way up the slight incline until he was on par with the Commander. "Cadet Mason, step forward."

A pair of hands clapped once and rubbed together vigorously while heavy, eager footfalls rushed forward. "Oh this is going to be just too easy." The voice unmistakably belonged to his tormentor from check-in the previous day.

_Well_.

Selas had no physical description of his opponent to work off of, which made his upcoming task that much more difficult. Judging by the cadet's deep voice and heavy step he suspected he was a rather large person but there was no way of knowing that with any certainty. His opponent stopped short roughly half a meter away waiting for the Commander's go ahead. Taking a deep cleansing breath Selas kept his cool and took up a defensive stance.

"Begin!"

The crowd watching them collectively sucked in their breaths and Selas listened as Mason slowly began to circle him. He matched him step for step until Mason lunged and he was forced to duck out of the way. His partner stumbled, growling at the miss, but quickly righted himself. Mason did not wait long before striking again and this time Selas crouched and took him down with a sweep of the leg. His opponent landed hard, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Having subdued his competitor Selas cocked his head in the direction of the Commander, waiting for his superior to call the fight. He did not. Instead Mason took the opportunity to roll over and shove himself back up on his feet; he then feinted a dodge and caught Selas by surprise, grabbing his left arm and pinning it behind his back. As Mason made a grab for the right arm Selas used his own momentum to flip him over, sending him tumbling back to the floor once more. Quite a few cheers went up but it was not praise that he wanted—he wanted to end the fight. Turning in the Commander's direction once more he waited for the match to be called and was again disappointed.

_Why? _he wondered._ I have subdued my attacker. What further instruction can the Commander glean about my defensive capabilities from this bout?_

Mason took his time getting up knowing that Selas was not going to strike while he was down. Suus mahna was a defensive art, not an offensive one, and he refused to strike an opponent who was ill-matched and unprepared. He heard Mason wipe the snot and blood from his nose and waited, trying to gauge where his opponent now stood; but the other cadet had grown wise, letting time pass so that his breathing settled and grew shallow, making it difficult for Selas to pinpoint his position. Although he never once broke form he began to grow less certain of his ability to fend Mason off.

Without warning a fist connected with his left cheek, sending him spinning so that he almost lost his footing. His head reeled from the blow and the blood pounded in his ears, making him an easy target for Mason's follow-up right hook. Struggling for breath and with the distinct tang of iron in the back of his throat Selas made a calculated move that paid off as he caught hold of Mason's fist in mid-air and proceeded to pin his arm behind his back.

Their respective positions presented a unique opportunity that Selas used to his advantage. Pressing his hand against Mason's forearm he robbed him of his sight and took in the image of his commander. The man was in his early 50's with a healthy tan and steely blue-gray eyes. He was watching Mason intently as if compelling him by will alone—then Selas saw him mouth the words 'get him'.

That was when he first discovered that Commander Rourke did not want him to succeed.

There was only one way Selas knew how to definitively end a fight, and after relinquishing his hold on Mason's optic nerve he reached up for his neck. "What the fuck?!" Mason cried as he wised up to the situation. His opponent head-butted him to try and throw him off but Selas would not be deterred. He grasped the cadet's neck and held fast while his head swam. "G-DAMMIT!" Mason cried out. He head-butted Selas again and he knew another hit like that would render him unconscious. He jammed his thumb into Mason's neck as hard as he could while his opponent threw his head back for a third blow.

Selas maintained consciousness long enough to feel Mason collapse insensible to the ground; he followed suit and passed out 1.79 seconds later.

* * *

**A/N:** Just out of curiosity, is there anybody out there who'd be willing and able to help me with a photoshop-type project? I tried my hand at it (downloaded GIMP and spent a couple hours trying to get the hang of it) but it's not happening. If you'd like to help please PM me! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** As you can see we have some new cover art for all the kids' stories and that is all thanks to KatiaSwift! She did a great job with the photo manipulations and I couldn't be happier! Many thanks go to her and to Linstock who did the original cover art of the kids in their younger years. Thank you both so much!

And now, without further ado, I give you chapter 4.

* * *

**Defense - Part I**

**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, 2287.197, 1714 hours.** Dr. Dietrich kept a close eye over his patient. He'd been specially brought out to the facility this year because of his past training with Vulcan Healers—but as Selas was a Vulcan/Human hybrid he was proving to be a most interesting case. If his current patient were any other Vulcan he would have thought he was in a healing trance but now he wasn't so sure. Setting his tricorder aside Hugo prepared to slap him back to reality when the young man stirred.

"You need not exert physical force on me," the cadet said.

"I see."

"I am concussed?"

"You are," the doctor asserted.

"And my opponent, what is his condition?"

Hugo thought back to when the two boys were brought in. Commander Rourke demanded that he see to his godson, Frank Mason; he wasn't even concerned about the other patient being brought in by the Lt. Commander and a tall, pale, dark-haired cadet. When he'd relegated Mason's care to a colleague the Commander hurled obscenities at him until he was hoarse, eventually threatening to have him demoted to janitor for dereliction of duty.

There was absolutely no reasoning with him—he was like a man possessed—and the Commander's coarse behavior raised his hackles. Something was up with him and somehow or other Hugo knew that Cadet Selas was directly involved.

Dr. Dietrich consulted his PADD. "Your opponent is still unconscious and, I suspect, will remain so for quite some time."

"Is he much injured?"

Well the cadet was certainly concerned for his comrade's well-being. "Cadet Mason has a rather large lump on the back of his head, but aside from that and some superficial cuts and bruises he's relatively unharmed." Selas sank back in the bed in relief. "Cadet, there's something I wish to know. Were you and Cadet Mason randomly assigned to each other for this bout?"

His patient turned in his general direction. "I do not know by what means we were chosen to compete against each other, only that Commander Rourke called each of us to step forward into the ring."

Dietrich nearly choked on the words. Mason was twice Selas' size, and even though the smaller Cadet had Vulcan strength on his side, had he not been so well-trained he could've easily been more seriously hurt. His stomach twisted up in knots as he suspected he'd be seeing much more of the cadet in the coming weeks.

"Will I need to remain here overnight for observation?" the cadet asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"No, you're free to leave; however I'll be instructing your friends to keep a close eye on you. If anything changes you're to come right back here."

His patient began to sit up. "Yes, Doctor…?"

"Dietrich, Hugo Dietrich." Hugo programmed the dosage then depressed the hypospray into his charge's neck. "It's an analgesic for the headache."

"Thank you, Doctor Dietrich." Selas hopped down off the bed. "If you would be so kind as to escort me out…"

"Of course." He couldn't let him go without a few words of caution. Carefully setting the boys' hand at the crook of his elbow, he asked, "Are you aware of the relationship between Commander Rourke and Cadet Mason?"

Selas cocked his head to the side, looking quite thoughtful. "I am not. They are related?"

"In a sense." He tried to keep his tone light so as not to scare him. "The Commander is the Cadet's godfather, a relationship he takes _very_ seriously."

They continued down the hall in silence and were very nearly to the lobby before the cadet spoke again. "I believe I understand the warning you are attempting to convey. I will be on my guard."

"Around both of them," he added.

"Yes," Selas said with a nod, "Around both of them." He'd been here 2 days and already distrusted Rourke and realized Mason was one of Rourke's puppets; and while it made him uneasy to speak so insolently about his superior to a cadet it was only done to ensure the boy's safety. No doubt distinguishing the change in ambient noises and assuming they were in the lobby the cadet released his arm. "Your assistance has been much appre-"

"Oh Selas!" Hugo watched in amusement as a lovely young blond rushed up and circled him in her arms. "We were so worried!"

"You need not have concerned yourself over much, Rebecca. I was very ably treated by Doctor Dietrich." The cadet pried herself away. "Did you say we?"

* * *

"Yeah, Buddy," he heard Paul reply just before slapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "We."

Two more pairs of footsteps shuffled before him. "You were quite impressive, Vulcan."

"Yeah," Markus replied, echoing Jamas' statement, "You were awesome, and Mason and Rourke are jerks."

The sound of someone getting hit in the arm was heard followed by Melissa hissing, "You _guys_, you can't talk about a superior officer like that!"

"It's not like he's here, Missy; besides, it's true, they're both jerks."

Rebecca jostled Markus and Melissa out of the way. "How are you feeling? And before you say it I know you know what I mean."

He smiled; she knew his literal mind all too well. "I am sore, but the doctor has prescribed a pain reliever that has alleviated most of my symptoms."

"Good." Selas felt the press of objects thrust into his palm and recognized the glasses and laser cane he had earlier left in Paul's care. "So since training ended early how about we all go get something to eat?"

He let loose a short bark of a laugh. "Paul, I know that we are not very well acquainted with one another yet, but it has become clear to me that you possess a most prodigious stomach."

As if to emphasize the point his friend pulled up his uniform shirt and began to beat a tune against his abdominal muscles. "Like my Mom always says, 'You gotta feed a growin' boy'!"

They left the infirmary together all laughing. In the back of his mind though Selas mulled over all he had experienced and been told that afternoon regarding Commander Rourke and Cadet Mason. He was uncertain what-if any-action should be taken. That evening when they were safe in their dorm room he shared his suspicions with his roommate as he unpacked.

The mattress coils creaked as Paul sank down onto the bed. "Yeah, I noticed that."

"What specifically did you notice?"

He pulled some more clothes out of his duffle. "I don't know, really. Just the way the Commander watched you, like he was plotting something. It was really creepy." Paul stood back up and pulled open a bureau drawer. "Are you sure you haven't pissed him off somehow? Maybe you ran into him at the Academy and did something to upset him?"

Selas shook his head. "To my knowledge I have never met, nor had any dealings with, Commander Rourke prior to the start of basic training."

His roommate shoved the drawer shut. "I don't know, man, 'cause it definitely looks like he's got it in for you. I'd watch my back if I were you."

One eyebrow rose. "Indeed."

* * *

There were initially only minor trifles he had to contend with. On their morning runs Selas was tripped up by unseen feet and meat-laden food was 'mistakenly' placed in his tray (and just as quickly removed by his friends). High pitched frequency emitters were placed on the stationary targets for his use during phaser practice, only one day someone set off a tone of the same pitch causing him to fire into the crowd of cadets behind him. Fortunately for them all no one was injured but he was deeply shaken.

After the phaser incident the violence against him began to escalate. He knew pain and hard work would be part of the deal when he joined Starfleet but defensive training was proving to be downright brutal. By the end of the first week everyone knew that Commander Rourke had it out for him. Selas was the cadet called to the floor; Selas was the cadet he made an example of. Why? Nobody knew. Meanwhile he began to see Doctor Dietrich almost daily for lacerations, concussions, sprained ankles, muscle tears and bruised joints.

And throughout it all he never complained nor uttered a single negative word against the commander. His silence was the only defense he had.

The last straw for the good doctor came in the middle of his third week at camp.

* * *

**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, 2287.215, 1739 hours.** He'd submitted his report to Admiral Galatas only yesterday and just found out it'd been dismissed. With a heavy sigh he swiped his glasses off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not the news he was hoping to hear and to top it all off he now heard two well-known pairs of feet making their way down the hall toward him, half-walking, half-dragging. Putting his glasses back on Hugo looked up in time to see Paul and Selas, the latter of which was guarding his left arm.

"I could set my watch by you two," he muttered darkly as he stepped up to examine his patient.

Selas spoke through gritted teeth, green blood trailing down the side of his face. "I believe my arm has been dislocated."

"You believe?!" He and Paul gingerly set him on the bio bed and Dietrich began running his tricorder over the boy. His patient had a deep laceration above his right eye that was oozing blood, his left arm was most definitely dislocated, and he had three cracked ribs. As he set about treating his injuries he exclaimed, "Selas, enough is enough! You have to speak up!"

His friend, who'd taken a seat in the corner, remarked resignedly, "I've been saying the same thing…"

"And I will repeat myself and tell you both that I will not report the Commander nor Cadet Mason. Kaiidth."

Hugo slammed a hand down on his desk; it was just like a Vulcan to be too stubborn to save his own skin. "No, I refuse to believe that! What is is _not_ what is. You can't just keep sitting there and taking it!"

His arm re-set and in a sling, Selas gingerly sat up and swung his legs over the bed, letting out a sigh as he did so. "There is no action that I can take that will not reflect badly upon me and possibly result in my dismissal from Starfleet, which, as far as I can tell, is Commander Rourke's goal," he said. "He is a bully, that is true, yet he has rank on his side. If I report him he will simply refute my claims and declare that I am unfit for duty. Should the case be dismissed altogether I would be opening myself up to further abuse from the Commander in retaliation for my accusations. No, I have survived the last 2.78 weeks and need only survive the next 3.22, then I will have no further dealings with him."

"Yeah, unless he starts teaching classes at the Academy or you get assigned to his starship or…"

"Or he kills you first," Hugo uttered darkly. Both men's heads shot up at that. "It's happened in the past—not intentionally, mind you—but we've all heard stories and accidents happen even here. Cadets have, unfortunately, died during basic training. I hate to say it but these last few weeks, seeing what he's capable of, I don't think it'd be much of a stretch for him."

Selas responded by gritting his teeth, his face pinched and drawn. It was the closest Hugo had seen him become well and truly angry. "I will _not_ die, and I will not report him." Paul rose to escort him back to the door and Selas shook his arm off. "Leave me. I am not helpless." He fumbled for the glasses and cane left on the side table then marched down the hall.

"Watch out for him," Dietrich said quietly when he thought his patient was out of hearing range.

"I will, Sir," Paul replied, "Two eyes, as often as I can spare them."

"Good." The boy quickly left and Hugo paced about the examination room for several minutes trying to calm down before he made his reports. He was careful to document all of Selas' injuries so he would have a precise catalogue if he were ever called to testify. The files were duplicated and kept separate from his official record; he had no way of knowing how far Commander Rourke's influence reached and he didn't want to risk them going conveniently 'missing'.


	5. Chapter 5

**Steady**

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California,**_** 2287.236, 1023 hours.** The last weeks of camp passed much as the preceding weeks had. Commander Rourke did take some care with Selas after dislocating his arm but not too much, leaving him bruised and battered enough to really feel the pain while still being able to report for training the following day.

Meanwhile cadets were slowly trickling out of the facility as they were called up on their survivalist assignments. They always left with very little warning; some were called away in the dead of night, others in the middle of training. Five days ago he had had breakfast with Rebecca, Jamas, Markus, Paul and Melissa and by lunchtime only Paul and Markus were left. All the cadets knew was that they had to be prepared for any eventuality.

That morning Selas re-checked the contents of his bag at the foot of the bed. He was built for desert climes and knowing Commander Rourke as he did he suspected he would be sent somewhere opposite to his tastes. With that in mind he made sure to pack long, loose layers of clothing for insulation; he also carried matches in a waterproof case, a non-digital compass, a water bottle, a spare laser cane and a hunting knife he requisitioned from Stores.

He was as prepared as he could possibly be, so when the call came that day during the middle of weapons training Selas did not hesitate. He raced to his dorm room, collected his bag and sprinted for the shuttle.

* * *

**1047 hours.** Paul and Markus were on the shuttle with him, as were Frank and his friend, Rick, no doubt sent by Commander Rourke to add insult to injury. The nature of their mission was not described to them until after take-off. Lieutenant Commander Pravat unhooked himself from his seat and paced the length of the shuttle as he spoke.

"You 5 are to secure and deactivate a Klingon spy drone that's fallen out of orbit."

Frank snorted. They all knew the spy drone was not real, that naming it such was part of the exercise. "_Okkkkkk_…" he said derisively, "If that's the case then how come Starfleet doesn't just beam it back to HQ themselves?"

"Because, _Cadet_," Pravat snapped back, "The weather is making it difficult to isolate and lock onto it's signal. These…" he pressed a small metallic box into Selas' hands, akin to the size and shape of a personal communicator, "Will help you locate the drone once you're on the ground. After it's secured we'll pick you up. Now, are there any _intelligent_ questions?" As they had none the Lieutenant Commander sat back down. Selas leaned back, closed his eyes and attempted to steady his breathing and wildly beating heart.

* * *

**1059 hours.** Markus had been nervously tapping his foot against the floor for the last 10.3 minutes, expressing the high-anxiety they all felt.

"Quit it, Johnson!"

"Bite me, Mason!" he threw back.

Selas heard the hasty clicks of someone un-strapping themselves from their seat. "Oh are you ever gonna be sorry you said that…"

"Sit down, Cadet," Pravat coolly ordered. Beside him he heard Frank pause. Was he actually going to disobey a direct order? "Now."

* * *

**1104 hours.** Selas took a tentative sniff of the air. Something was off—the composition of the recycled air in the shuttle was different. Muskier. Heavier. He tried to find a logical explanation for the change but his thought processes slowed by 15.63%.

Then the answer hit him a split second later.

"Lieutenant Commander."

"Yes?" came a rather disinterested reply.

"I believe we are being gassed."

Apparently this was not part of their mission as Selas listened to the Lieutenant Commander's PADD clatter to the floor as he hastily unhooked himself. "All of you stay in your seats." He strode up the middle aisle to the cockpit and attempted to open the door to no avail. Pravat knocked on the metal with his fists. "Pilot, open the door." No answer. Several more raps followed in quick succession. "Pilot!" Pravat yelled, "I demand you open this door immediately!" No answer. "Pilot!"

Meanwhile his fellow cadets became more and more unnerved. "Why would anyone wanna gas a training shuttle?!" Markus screeched. Selas made no reply as he attempted to restrict his breathing, hoping to stave off the loss of consciousness, while simultaneously considering the possibilities. The cabin was noticeably filling with gas now and his entire body began to grow heavy. From the seat in front of him Paul started to cough.

"Are there any re-breathers available on this shuttle?" he asked of no one in particular.

Pravat instantly stopped pounding on the door and moved to a storage compartment beside the exit. "They're gone. Dammit!" He strode back to the door. "PILOT!"

The last thing Selas thought before he succumbed to the gas was that Frank and Rick were being awfully quiet…

* * *

**?** His head snapped up as he came to. The shuttle was silent, though he could detect the sonorous breathing of three slumbering individuals; he did not need to see to know that Rick and Frank had abandoned them. A fresh gust of air poured into the cabin, cooling the space further, and enabling Selas to determine that the exit door was left wide open. Unhooking himself from his seat he rose to investigate and see if he could rouse any of his companions.

It was bitterly cold and Selas shivered where he stood, grateful that his pack was well-stocked with thermal clothing. Reaching under his seat he collected his bag and retrieved the sweater Mama gave him, hastily pulling it on over his head before moving forward to try and shut the door. He was very nearly to the exit when he tripped on something—someone—and that person emitted a soft groan. Selas knelt down beside him and gently rolled him from his stomach onto his back, feeling along for any identifying features. The epaulets on his shoulder told him that he had discovered Lieutenant Commander Pravat. Selas shook him gently but he did not stir.

Standing up he blew into his hands and rubbed them together for warmth. He turned back around to try and find his friends. Paul had been seated in the row in front of him while Markus had been one row back and on the opposite side of the aisle. Holding an arm out on either side he felt the fabric of the seat cushions and counted down the rows until his hand snagged on Paul's arm.

Selas started shaking his friend. "Paul." No answer. "Paul."

"Ugh…"

He jerked his head toward the sound. Markus was coming around. Selas swiftly moved over to his seat. "Markus, are you injured?"

"What?" There was some rustling as he shifted about and slowly came out of the fog. Selas heard the snap of the seat straps being removed. "No, I'm fine." Markus must have looked around and noticed two members of their party were missing because he asked, "Where are Frank and Rick?"

"That is a question I would also like answered," he replied grimly. "Will you assist me in checking on the condition of Paul and the Lieutenant Commander?"

"Sure." Together they returned to Paul's side. "He looks like he's waking up. I don't think he's hurt." Just then Markus let out a low hiss. "Pravat's in rough shape though. He's pretty banged up and I think he broke his leg. Looks like he wasn't strapped in when we landed."

Paul groaned and brought a hand to his forehead. "What the _hell_ happened?" he hoarsely asked.

"We were rendered unconscious…"

"Three guesses who did that," Markus added sarcastically.

"…mid-flight and have subsequently landed in what I believe to be a snow-filled region. Presumably we are still on Earth."

"We are," the Lieutenant Commander said in a gasp. All three of them trotted down the aisle to attend him. Judging by the hisses and moans he was attempting to sit up. "Shit. This is…this is just… Fuck!"

He heard someone roll up some fabric. "Well the good news is there's no bone sticking out."

"Bad news is you can't walk," Paul finished for Markus.

The Lieutenant Commander hissed again as his pant leg was rolled back down. Selas stood up and moved to the compartment beside the cockpit door feeling for the medkit. Retrieving it he handed it off to Paul. "There should be an inflatable splint in there. We'll need it to stabilize his leg before we can attempt to move him."

"Good thinking."

Lieutenant Commander was gasping hard, the pain intense. "I think…I think the shuttle…was piloted remotely," he said.

"By who?" Selas asked.

Markus scoffed. "Who do you think?! Commander Hard Ass!" He must have seen something in Lieutenant Commander Pravat's expression because he followed that outburst immediately with "Sorry, Sir."

"Why would the Commander endanger our lives like this?" Paul wondered aloud.

"I don't…be-believe…that was…his intention. Oww!" Pravat took several deep breaths to try and level out the pain. "Cadet Mason…is his…nephew. He wants…him to…succeed…at…any cost."

"The Cadet is the Commander's godson, not his nephew. I believe what you are trying to say is that Commander Rourke wanted him to succeed while simultaneously setting me up for failure."

"Yes," Pravat weakly added. "He thinks…you are…a l-liability…to Starfleet…and that…you've taken…a spot…of someone…more deserving. He had to…pull strings…to get his…godson…in."

"Wait a minute. Selas, you knew about Rourke and Mason's connection and you never said anything?!" Paul blasted.

He shrugged. "What purpose would the information have served?"

Meanwhile Markus had gotten up and moved toward the back of the shuttle. "You guys are gonna want to take a look at this…"

"I'll go see what he's on about," Paul muttered darkly before stalking off. Now that the splint had been set he urged the Lieutenant Commander to lie back down. "I wasn't…even supposed…to be on…this mission." Selas asked him to conserve his energy while reaching for his wrist to check his pulse. He was cold to the touch and his pulse was weak. "I filled in…for Oswald…last minute. He had…an allergic…reaction…this morning…"

That explained his presence on the shuttle then. It had not escaped his notice during the last 6 weeks of training that while Commander Rourke was unyielding toward him Lieutenant Commander Pravat was much more accommodating. There had been, at times, noticeable tension between the superior officers—at least in the verbal exchanges Selas had been briefly privy to in the cafeteria. Conversely, Lieutenant Oswald and Commander Rourke were of similar minds with regards to their roles in Starleet and there was no mistaking that Oswald was a favorite of the Commander's. It was very likely that Rourke had intended for Oswald to join Frank and Rick in their premature departure to secure their success.

Pravat stifled another groan by stuffing his fist in his mouth. "Lieutenant Commander, I may be able to assist you in easing your pain without depleting our scant medical resources. Would you like me to do so?"

"Yes!" he choked out in a whisper, "Oh G-d, please, yes!"

"Very well." Selas ran his hand up the Lieutenant Commander's arm, over the epaulets on his uniform, and over toward his neck. When he was in position he pinched hard and the Lieutenant Commander was knocked insensible once more. That objective achieved he joined his friends in the back of the shuttle; as he walked he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the homing device for the 'Klingon spy drone' .

"Well we can't stay here," Paul said, "The metal from the shuttle will absorb what little heat we might get and we'll freeze in our sleep."

"Do not forget that we cannot leave Lieutenant Commander Pravat behind either," he interjected. "A stretcher will need to be fashioned to accommodate him."

"You guys, that's what I'm trying to tell you!" Markus hissed. "Rick and Frank took the bulk of the supplies. We have no tents, no survival gear…just some lousy rations, a few blankets and whatever the hell we packed ourselves, assuming they didn't get into our kits."

"To my knowledge they have not."

At his side, Paul scoffed, "Well that's something." He reached over and held up Selas' beacon. "Best I can figure we're 28 klicks away from the buoy. We can't get into the cockpit so it's our best chance of contacting Starfleet and radioing for help."

"Agreed."

"Yeah, ok, that's great and all, but have you guys taken a look outside?" Markus cut in exasperatedly. "It's like -3° C out there, and who knows how much the temperature will fall once it goes dark!? We have no shelter, little food, little equipment, and a severely injured man on our hands!"

"Remaining in the shuttle," he explained to his friends, "Is tantamount to letting Commander Rourke and Cadet Mason win. You heard what Lieutenant Commander Pravat said—_we_ were set-up for failure. We must prove the Commander and any other skeptics we have wrong!" It was the most impassioned speech he had made in years and for several seconds his friends were stunned into silence.

"I think a stretcher can be made using some blankets and things," Paul quietly admitted.

Markus took a deep breath before he spoke. "I hear what you're saying, Selas," he said, "But I'm still not sure how we're going to do it. 28 kilometers is a long way and they have a head start!"

He was instantly reminded of his mother's favorite fable, one she enjoyed telling and re-telling him and his siblings when they were children. "I know it is a great distance, but slow and steady wins the race, my friend," he replied, clapping Markus on the shoulder. "Slow and steady wins the race."


	6. Chapter 6

**Edge of the World**

**?, 2287.236, local time unknown. **The four of them were able to traverse 5 kilometers that first afternoon. A stretcher was not needed as they found an inflatable raft among the supplies left behind by Rick and Frank which, when combined with a length of rope, was suitable for towing along the unconscious Lieutenant Commander.

Paul gave Selas the lay of the land as they walked and together they decided it would be best to make camp along the edge of the woods since they would have to cut through the forest to reach their destination tomorrow. That first night the three of them dug out a pit at the base of a large fir tree for shelter, creating a canopy top with some blankets and lining the ground with branches. Several meters away they used Selas' matches to get a fire going and sat on a fallen tree trunk nearby to eat their rations. Off in the distance an animal's cry was carried to them on the wind.

"Oh good, wolves, just what we need!" Markus cried. His frustration was becoming more apparent the further they got from the shuttle. "And what've we got to defend ourselves? 2 knives and a club I picked up from an old branch. Great, just great!"

"I understand you are anxious, however, losing your temper will not help. You must remain calm."

"CALM?! You want me to remain fucking CALM?!" Flecks of spittle landed on Selas' cheek. "Our superior officer almost tried to kill us with that stunt he pulled on the shuttle and we're out in the middle of nowhere with a pack of _WOLVES_ on our scent, so please, tell me exactly how in the hell you expect me to stay calm?!"

"Well if you keep yelling like that," Paul called out as he re-joined them, "You definitely won't have to worry about the wolves."

"Screw you!" Markus leapt up and threw a few more logs on the fire. "You know, Selas, I know you can't help the fact that Commander Hard Ass has it in for you, but sometimes being your friend really _sucks_." He listened as Markus' footsteps carried him away from the campfire in the opposite direction of the shelter while Paul took a seat and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't listen to him, he's just upset. He doesn't mean it."

Intellectually he knew that but at the moment Selas could not believe him and so chose to change the topic of conversation. "How is the Lieutenant Commander?"

He heard the tin top pulled back on a can of unidentified rations. "He's ok at the moment." The scrape of a spoon followed by smacking lips quickly followed. "But I don't think we should dawdle in the morning. The sooner he gets help the better."

Selas nodded in agreement. "I estimate that he will regain consciousness within the next hour. We must make sure he remains awake long enough to take food and water. Once that is accomplished and if he is still in a great deal of pain I will render him unconscious as I did before." Selas pulled out his water bottle, packed a bit more snow into it, then tucked the bottle between the layers of his shirt to melt it down. "Paul, do you see any long , sturdy branches on the ground nearby, that are preferably 1 meter in length or longer?"

The tin of rations was hastily set aside. "Um, ok, that's random."

"I wish to make a spear," Selas clarified, "So that I will have something to defend us with. I will take first watch while you and Markus sleep and I want to be prepared for any eventuality."

"You don't have to do that. I can take…"

"I do not require as much sleep as you," he interjected. What he did not tell Paul was that he welcomed the chance to be alone, if only for a handful of hours. "Therefore it is only logical that I take first watch."

He heard his friend take up his rations again. "Alright." Paul ate with gusto and was soon eagerly scraping the bottom of the tin. As he could not identify the meal by scent Selas inquired after what he was eating. "I dunno," he mumbled as he shoveled the last of it into his mouth, "Some kind of chop suey, maybe?"

"How are you able to consume that which you cannot readily identify?"

"Practice I guess. Meritani's all farms and stuff and sometimes there've been a few lean years where we had to supplement with rations." He set the tin in the trash pack. "Selas, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why haven't you dropped out? I mean, you've known since the beginning that Rourke doesn't want you here, so why keep going?"

Selas answered without hesitation. "I have carried on because I have witnessed firsthand all the good that Starfleet can do and I want to be a part of the organization more than Commander Rourke wants to keep me out of it. He is but one officer and there are hundreds more within the Fleet who cancel out his negative influence and make my effort worthwhile."

Paul thought about that for several seconds then clapped him again on the shoulder. "Well ok then." He got up and Selas listened to him stir the fire. "I'm going to go look for that stick for you."

"Thank you."

He listened to Paul tramp off into the woods. Sitting alone before the crackling fire, Selas took a long deep breath and attempted to clear his mind. Markus was right—if Commander Rourke were not so intent on breaking him they would not be in their current predicament. He did not know what to do and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. There was no 'right' move he could make here; all he could do, all any of them could do, was survive.

15.6 minutes later he heard footsteps approach the campfire from the east. Given their similar sizes and gait patterns he could not discern whether it was Paul or Markus until they sat beside him and began to speak. "Here," Markus said, depositing two items into his lap, "Paul asked me to give you these."

Selas felt the length of the branch and tested it's durability then reached for the knife clipped to his belt. With a flick of the wrist it was open and he began tying it tight using the thin rope his friend had given him. "Thank you."

An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. "Look, about what I said earlier…"

"You need not bring it up."

"No man, I do," he said. "I shouldn't have said what I said. It's not your fault this whole situation is FUBAR. It's just…it's like…" Markus hesitated briefly then finished in a rush, "It feels like we got dropped off at the edge of the world and nobody knows or cares that we're here. It's just wrong being hung out to dry like this and not what I thought Starfleet was all about when I signed up." He punctuated the last part of his speech with several punches to the log they both sat on.

"I understand," Selas calmly replied, "and am in complete agreement with you."

Markus' head shot up in surprise. "You are?"

_He doubted him? _"Of course. This is not the Starfleet I elected to join either."

"Well damn, I thought I was the only one freakin' out here!"

"You are not; however, as future officers it would not do for us to lose our heads in crisis situations."

"I know. I'm working on it."

The crunch of snow underfoot signaled Paul's hurried approach and they both turned in his direction. "Pravat's awake." They both rose and he heard Markus throw his poking stick into the fire before leaving to tend to their commanding officer.

* * *

That evening he settled himself on a blanket near the entrance of the shelter while the others bedded down for the night. The area was quiet and calm; there was no breeze wafting through the trees, no snow falling, and the only sounds were of the pitter patter of small nocturnal creatures going about their business unmindful of his presence. However, Selas remained vigilant lest any predators approach, only betraying his discomfort with an occasional, teeth-rattling shiver.

Three hours later Paul crept out of the tree pit. "You awake?" he whispered.

"Of course."

"Just checking. I'll take over, you go get some shut eye."

Selas burrowed into the shelter and settled in, warming up only marginally as he fell into a light, uneasy slumber.

* * *

Markus woke them at sunrise and they broke camp, careful to leave no trace behind. They ate, assisted the Lieutenant Commmander, and packed their canteens full of snow before taking off through the woods. "5 klicks down, 23 more to go!" Paul called out gleefully, trying to rouse everyone's spirits. As they journeyed on Selas stayed with the raft while Paul and Markus took it in turns to take point. Fortunately for them the forest was sparse and they emerged on the other side 2.18 hours later after traversing the 7 kilometer expanse.

"Whoa," Paul called out, causing him and Markus to grind to a halt.

"Why are we stopping?" Markus released his side of the rope and stepped forward, letting loose a low whistle. "What is it?" Selas asked again.

Paul walked over to him. "There's a big ice crevice in front of us. We'll have to skirt the edge of the woods and find a way around."

"That's another hour or two setback we weren't expecting," Markus remarked, tone dripping with disappointment.

"Well then," he replied, taking hold of the raft once more, "Let us not waste anymore time."

They marched on, this time with Markus taking the lead, and had traveled 2 kilometers when they heard cries for help. All three dashed forward to assist.

"Oh thank G-d!" Rick cried out as he caught sight of them, his voice distant and echoing. "I thought we were gonna die down here! Get us out, quick!"

Selas determined that Rick and Frank were somehow stuck in the ice crevice, though he was uncertain as to how that came to be until Markus explained. "Looks like they threw a rope across and tried to shimmy over rather than go around. The rope snapped on this side and now they're just dangling. Frank's unconscious and I think I see blood, and Rick's holding his arm."

"Understood."

"Hold on," Paul called out. Together they took what rope they had left and tied it around the base of a sturdy tree. Markus threw it out to Rick but it fell short—if the colorful expletives his three human companions hurled about were any indication to go by. They were hauling the rope back in when Selas approached Paul.

"If I may, I would like to borrow your sight."

"Borrow my sight?" he asked skeptically. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that with your permission I would conduct a light mind meld and use your eyes to survey the surrounding area, rendering you temporarily blind."

Both men were stunned, dropping the rope in their hands and crying out as one, "You can do that?!" He answered with a nod in the affirmative.

"Jesus!" Markus carried on, "Did you ever, oh, I don't know, think that maybe that information might've come in handy at any point during camp?!"

"It was better that I learn to do things for myself without sight as I will not always be afforded the opportunity of borrowing another person's vision."

He heard his friend throw his hands up in the air. "You have an answer for everything! Anything else you care to let us in on? Can you pull a communicator out of your hat? Snap your fingers and have us sitting on a tropical beach somewhere surrounded by hot babes?"

Selas did not appreciate his friend's sarcasm and rolled his eyes. "No, I cannot."

At that moment Paul drew up alongside him. "So, um, what do you need me to do?"

"You need not do anything but expose the skin of your arm so that I might achieve contact."

"Okkkkkk." The rustle of fabric being rolled up was soon heard. "This isn't going to hurt, is it?"

"No, this will not be painful," Selas assured him. "I am told it is initially disorienting but that the key is to relax. Once I have surveyed the scene thoroughly I will withdraw and your vision will be restored."

Paul gulped hard and thrust his arm forward. "Ok."

He groped about feeling nothing but the material of his friend's jacket before finding the exposed skin near the wrist. Taking a deep breath Selas lay his hand over Paul's arm and very gently pulled along his optic nerve so as not to overwhelm him. "Whoa," he exclaimed as his world went dark; meanwhile Selas took in the scene.

The day was cloudy and gray. The crevice that was presenting them with so much trouble was perhaps 15 meters wide and the bank of trees stopped some 2 meters before the cliff. Examining the amount of rope they had Selas realized it would not be enough to reach Frank and Rick and that they would need to mount a rescue from the other side where there was nothing more than a barren, snowy wasteland. The wind picked up again and he sniffed the air before looking up to the clouds which threatened an imminent snowfall.

Selas withdrew from the meld as seamlessly as he entered into it. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Paul replied in a daze. "That was just…that…" his voice trailed off as he tried to process the experience.

"I understand."

"So what's your take on all this?" Markus piped in.

"We do not have an adequate amount of rope to reach them from this side," he replied.

"What are you saying, that we have to…"

"That we must mount a rescue from the other side of the crevice, yes."

Paul turned to him. "Selas, we can't do that. There's…" Before he could explain Rick cried out to them again.

"GUYS!" he screeched. "I don't know how much longer this is gonna hold!"

"Shit, he's right," Markus confirmed. "It's starting to fray."

"Then we must hurry." They rushed to untie the rope from the tree and Paul ran on ahead while he and Markus brought up the rear. It was another 2 kilometers before they could safely get around the crevice.

"I still don't know how we're going to do this," Markus argued as they ran. "I mean, there's nothing to anchor the rope on this side of the cliff and Rick and Frank are big guys!"

"I will be the anchor."

"Honest to G-d." He could practically see Markus rolling his eyes. "You're tall, I'll grant you that, but you're like 80 kilos sopping wet! Rick alone is probably 95 and Frank well over 100; the three of us _together_ wouldn't be anchor enough for them even if they could pull their own damn selves up! If you do this then you're just going to get dragged down with them!"

Why did he insist on constantly disagreeing with him? "My Vulcan musculature makes me more dense than I appear. Once we arrive I will entrench myself on that side of the cliff, we will tie the rope around my waist, and you and Paul will help hoist them up over the edge."

"Guys, quit it, we're wasting time!" Paul rushed over and Selas felt the rope being tied around his waist. "He can do this," he told Markus, "If he couldn't do it he wouldn't have offered. Now come on!" Even now he could hear the snapping of rope fibers coming from the cliff's edge.

"Oh fuck, you guys, I don't wanna die like this!" Rick wailed.

Selas followed them over and planted himself firmly in the ground about 2 meters from the side. "Ready?" his friends called out. With a grim nod he gnashed his teeth together and held firm as they dropped the rope over the edge. There was a little tug as Rick took hold before he transferred the whole of his and Frank's weight to the new line. Selas felt his feet slide forward and gasped. 204 kilos and 2 lives now rested on _him_. He dug his heels in harder.

"Hold on!"

Markus and Paul grunted hard as they pulled the others up hand over hand. Each second they worked stretched out like an age and he could feel his legs tremble beneath him from exertion. "Hurry…please hurry," he spit out through clenched teeth. The rope was beginning to slide out of his hands.

"Almost there!"

"Just another second!"

A few more grunts and he fell on his backside as Rick flopped to the ground, followed by a thump from the unconscious Frank while Paul and Markus sank to their knees. "Thank G-d," Rick exclaimed, breathing hard.

"That was a little too close for comfort," Markus agreed.

Selas fumbled with the knot around his waist. "Yes it was."

He listened as someone felt about their person then pulled an object out of their pocket and flip it on. "Good news guys," Paul announced, still somewhat out of breath, "Only 16.25 kilometers until we reach the buoy."

They all groaned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Alarm**

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, **_**2287.236, 1106 hours**_**.**_ He had not had any direct communication from Selas in the last 5.7 weeks, nor had he expected to receive any, as it had been the same for him when he arrived on Terra for basic training. This morning, however, Spock sat in his office on the Academy grounds reviewing his syllabus for the coming semester and he felt a sudden change come over him that he could not immediately identify. He felt a growing sense of dread bloom deep in his chest and then—nothing. The sensation dissipated as quickly as it came on. His own person being uninjured Spock checked the bonds of the rest of his family. Nyota was well, checking the instrumentation in the communications lab, and his bonds with T'Alora and Se'tak (stretched across the distance though they were) were also intact and untroubled.

But Selas—the familiar hum of his mind was worryingly silent. Not absent, but only the barest link connected them; a muted thread that seemed to him to be on the verge of snapping.

Setting aside his work Spock called up his sa-fu's file. There was nothing in there out of the ordinary save for the fact that Selas had left the Soledad facility for his survival training within the last half hour; however, Spock could not find any additional information regarding his sa-fu's mission or ultimate destination. There was not even a flight plan on file.

His curiosity piqued.

Concerned for Selas' well-being he activated his comm and called up Admiral Pike to ascertain whether there had been any mishap at the facility. The Admiral was no more informed than he was and instead referred Spock to Commander Bradley Rourke, the man in charge training. Spock and the Commander had met in the past at 7 different Starfleet functions but had not had much interaction with each other in their respective careers. No matter, he now called up the address to his office in Soledad to get to the bottom of Selas' sudden silence.

"Greetings, Commander. I am Commander…"

The tan man with blue-gray eyes and graying hair at his temples interrupted him. "Spock, yes, we've met a few times before. What can I do for you, Sir? I'm afraid I only have about a minute to chat."

"Of course. I am contacting you to discover the current whereabouts of Cadet Selas."

"You mean your son? Well it's what, a little after 11? He should still be in weapons training."

"His file states that he is out on survival assignment."

Commander Rourke shrugged. "Then if that's what it says that's where he is. He must've just gotten called up."

"Indeed. And are you aware of his current whereabouts?"

The Commander glanced away from the screen as if in deep thought. "No, can't say I recall off the top of my head. As I'm sure you know there've been a lot of assignments handed out this week and I can't remember them all. Now if you'll excuse me I'm late for a meeting." He terminated the call before Spock could stop him.

This was all very disconcerting—and while he had no sound reason for thinking so he believed that Commander Rourke knew more about Selas' whereabouts than he was currently letting on.

However, Spock had no tangible evidence that anything was amiss. His son was in training, a stressful environment for anyone of any species, and periods of heightened emotion were known to indirectly affect familial bonds. Spock had sensed Selas' presence briefly before today, though why he believed him to be in danger now he did not know. Closing his eyes and taking several deep, cleansing breaths he re-focused on his work, all the while paying equally close attention to the muted link with his sa-fu.

* * *

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California,**_** 2287.236, 1947 hours.** Hugo pulled back the curtain and examined the chart while checking on Lieutenant Oswald's condition. The man had mistakenly ingested some Andorian spice bread that morning and while most humans could tolerate it to say it hadn't agreed with Derek was an understatement. It was still unknown which of the foreign spices affected him so badly but by the time they got him to Medical he started going into multiple organ failure and they'd had to intubate him just to keep him breathing. Hugo was pleased to see that several hours later his vitals were beginning to level out and his color was coming back. If he kept up like this he'd probably be back on his feet in 7-10 days.

Looking down he saw his patient's eyes were wide open. "Evening, Derek. Feeling better?" The Lieutenant managed a slight nod. "Are you in any pain? Do you need more meds?" He shook his head no and Hugo made note of it on the chart. Oswald was flat on his back, his arms lying on either side of the hospital blanket covering him, and when he chanced to glance down at his hands Hugo saw him rhythmically tapping away with his right index finger.

He cocked his head to the side. "Do you want some music?" Derek shook his head no. Hugo studied his hand again; the motions looked oddly familiar… "Is that—Morse Code?" Oswald nodded vigorously, threatening to upset the tube running down his throat. "Ok, ok, hold on a second." He called up a code sheet and bade Derek start again.

Dot, dot, dot. "S." Dot, dot, dot, dot. "H." Dot, dot, dash. "U." Dash. "T." Dash. "T." "Shutt…Shuttle, are you trying to say shuttle?" Again Oswald nodded in the affirmative. "Ok, what shuttle…" Dietrich called up the Lieutenant's agenda that day and saw he was supposed to have gone out on a survival mission that morning. There was little other information to be had—there wasn't even a final destination listed—but once he saw the other names on the manifest he groaned.

"Oh no…"

* * *

_**150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco, **_**2287.236, 2022 hours.** Nyota, casually dressed in slacks and a light blouse after a long day at work, sauntered into the office and draped her arms around his shoulders as he sat at the desk. "Are you sure everything's ok?" she asked worriedly. "You hardly touched your dinner and your mind seems…I don't know, someplace else. Did something happen?"

Spock put down his work and leaned back into her embrace, closing his eyes. "There was no specific precipitating event…"

"And yet…" she said as she ran her hands down his chest.

"…and yet I cannot help but believe that Selas is in trouble."

Nyota immediately stopped and turned his chair around so they were face-to-face. "Why do you think that?"

"As I said there was no specific precipitating event…"

"Spock." He stopped short and stared deep into her eyes. "Tell me everything." He proceeded to do just that and was part-way through his tale when a call flashed on the comm screen. "Do you recognize that address?" she asked.

"No, I do not."

Spock accepted and a jittery, balding, 40-something year old man with wire-rimmed spectacles appeared on-screen. "Commanders? I'm glad I caught you both together…"

"Pardon me," Spock interjected, "But I do not believe that we are acquainted."

"We're not, Sir," the nervous-looking man replied. "I'm Hugo Dietrich, a physician with Starfleeet. I've been working at the training facility in Soledad and…" There appeared to be more that the Doctor wanted to say but he stopped himself short. "Anyway, I'm calling because I was wondering if you'd heard from Selas at all today."

The bond lit up as both he and his adun'a simultaneously thought, "_He knows something._"

"We haven't spoken to him directly since he left for camp," Nyota replied. She glanced Spock's way but did not elaborate further.

"I see." Doctor Dietrich looked dismayed at the news. He scratched at his temple then hesitantly asked, "Have you, um, perhaps heard from him _indirectly_?"

Spock's eyebrow went up. "Yes," he confirmed, "For 14.78 seconds at 1106 hours this morning."

"I see. And—forgive me if I'm pushing the bounds of propriety here, Sir, but it's important—what _exactly_ did he impress upon you?"

Now there was no doubt in Spock's mind that this man had information concerning his sa-fu. "Panic."

The physician's eyes flew open. "I was afraid of this…" Doctor Dietrich looked them straight on. "There've been incidents here at camp." Beside him he saw Nyota start to open her mouth but unfortunately the Doctor cut her off. "I'm afraid I can't go into more detail without breaking doctor/patient confidentiality but suffice it to say I'm concerned. I've tried to report it but the man has a spotless record and without a complaining victim my accusation seems to have fallen on deaf ears. However, as of about thirty minutes ago I have reason to believe something happened to Selas and the other boys who left for survival training this morning—nothing concrete, mind you, but I'm still very worried and I think you should be too."

Before Nyota could respond Spock asked, "Which person have you attempted to report, Doctor Dietrich, and for what reason?"

He swallowed hard then straightened up and threw his shoulders back. "Commander Bradley Rourke, Sir, for conduct unbecoming an officer." Quietly, he added, "He's been targeting a single cadet and, I believe, abusing him."

Nyota gasped and her hands flew up to cover her mouth as Spock narrowed his eyes into little slits. He felt himself flush with anger and clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap. There was one more question he had to force himself to ask. "Doctor, what is your area of expertise?"

The man stared back at him unblinkingly. "Vulcan physiology."

* * *

_**Starfleet Headquarters, Officer's Billet, **_**2287.236, 2108 hours.** "I've never seen any of this," Adm. Pike grimly declared. He continued to review the report Dr. Dietrich forwarded them while Spock paced the length of the Admiral's living room. The surest way to provoke an emotional response in a Vulcan was to threaten a member of their clan and Nyota knew that her adun was barely keeping it together. They'd only read through a third of the report Dietrich sent before she had to physically restrain him from transporting out to Soledad and confronting Commander Rourke; her suggestion that they consult Pike was made mostly to prevent Spock from killing the other man with his bare hands. Worse still was the sinking feeling they each had that this report didn't give them a full picture of what went on with their son. "Why am I only just hearing about this now?"

She focused back on the present. "The original report was filed with Admiral Galatas' office. Given Rourke's track record and the fact that Selas refused to cooperate she simply dismissed the case."

"And why didn't your son step forward?"

Nyota grimaced; she'd been wondering that very thing herself since they first learned the news. She glanced up at Spock who'd stopped in his tracks, one eyebrow raised. "I do not know."

Admiral Pike set the PADD down on his lap. "So let me see if I have this straight. Commander Rourke's been putting your son through the wringer for the last 6 weeks. This morning he sends Selas and four other cadets off on their survival training mission under Lieutenant Oswald's supervision with no scheduled flight plan. It's fairly common knowledge that Oswald is in Rourke's pocket but at the last minute Derek falls ill and Lieutenant Commander Pravat, who I happen to know for a fact doesn't get along well with Rourke, fills in. The shuttle left on time from Soledad but after that no one knows where it was headed or if it arrived safely. Did I get everything?"

She nodded. "Dr. Dietrich also told us that according to the manifest the Commander's godson, a Cadet Mason, was also on-board. Supposedly he's been harassing Selas too."

"I see."

"Given the situation as we now know it, logic would suggest that the Commander would not risk his godson's safety but rather seek to put him at a decided advantage, both in his training and over our sa-fu," Spock finally said.

Pike looked up at him from his hoverchair. "Yep, that's what I would do—assuming that these accusations are true."

Spock quirked his head sharply. "Admiral, if you are suggesting…"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Spock," he calmly countered, one hand held up to forestall further arguing, "All I'm saying is that right now Rourke is presumed innocent until proven guilty; besides, we don't have any real evidence that anything's happened to Selas yet so now's not the best time to jump to conclusions."

Her adun was temporarily mollified. "Agreed."

"If we could just find out where they were headed…" she let the thought trail off. Wherever they were knowing their exact location wouldn't make her feel any better, not until she knew Selas was alright.

"Commander Spock, my office is right through those doors there." Pike pointed to a set of dark, wooden, double doors on the opposite side of the room. "Perhaps you'd like to step inside and start using some of your considerable skill to locate the missing training assignment files?"

He was being given permission to violate a Starfleet directive. Spock quirked his head, briefly considered, then gave a slight smirk before striding across the room and proceeding to do just as he was ordered. Meanwhile, the Admiral began directing his hoverchair toward the front door. Before she could ask what his intentions were he said, "What do you say you and I pay Admiral Galatas an impromptu visit?"

"Of course," she said with a sad smile. They headed out the door and were halfway down the block before Pike asked her why they didn't talk to Kirk about all this first. Nyota reminded him that Jim was off planet.

"Oh right, right, Rigel V."

"But even if he were here," she continued, "I wouldn't have gone to Jim. You saw how agitated Spock was and Jim's just as invested in our kids as we are in his; he'd have gone with Spock straight to Soledad and who knows what might've happened." Having seen her adun truly enraged three times before in her life Nyota knew what she was talking about.

"Ahh. Good call."

"I thought so too, Sir."

While they walked her mind turned over this troubling turn of events, her anxiety for Selas mounting with each step. _Oh Selas, what have you gotten yourself into…_

* * *

**?, 2287.237, local time unknown.** He double-tied the knot in Rick's sling and gave him a pat on the back when he was through. "Is that sufficient?" The fabric rustled as it was pulled taut and Rick gave a slight groan as he adjusted his broken arm.

"Yeah," he said in exhale, "It's good. Thanks."

Those were the first kind words Rick had spoken to him in the last 5.79 weeks. "You are welcome." Behind him Selas listened to the others settle Frank into the raft. "How is his head?"

"He must've hit the ice hard," Markus declared, "Because he is out _cold_. We've bandaged him up but I don't think he'll be wakin' up anytime soon."

"Understood."

"You two ready to head out?" Paul called over.

Selas rose up on legs that were still a little shaky. "I am prepared."

Rick struggled to get to his feet as well. "Yep, I'm good."

"Alright then. Rick, you and Selas take point and Markus and I will tow the raft."

He nodded in Paul's direction, grateful for the reprieve. "Very well. Rick?"

"Yeah?" Selas waited patiently for him to give him the crook of his good arm. "Oh right." Rick placed his elbow near enough for him to take hold then they took up the march toward the beacon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Trail**

**?, 2287.237, local time unknown. **They had walked roughly 3 kilometers away from the ice crevice when Frank began to stir. "Hold up!" Paul called out. They all crowded around the raft.

"How does he fare?"

"Give him a sec, Selas, he's just waking up," came Markus' voice.

"You guys," Rick said worriedly, "He's still bleeding."

"Ugh…" Frank groaned. The rubber lifeboat shifted and squeaked as he moved. "Banana kangaroos*?"

Markus guffawed and slapped a hand over his offending mouth while Selas' eyebrow flew up. "That is a most unexpected and illogical remark."

Frank sighed. "Stewed tomatoes. Horseshoes in the crevice darkly tanning? Apollo silver bells tingling in the speakeasy*?" When no one immediately answered him Frank became much more agitated.

Paul crouched down in the snow to be more at eye level. "Hey, take it easy. You were in an accident." There was some indistinct grunting and then he asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

"Paris*."

"I'm sorry?" Paul asked.

Frank hit the side of the raft. "Money wad Titanic*!"

"Why's he not makin' any sense?" Rick asked anxiously.

"Airplanes flying in the bat cave pretty pool party*?!"

"If I may," Selas interjected amidst the ridiculousness, "I believe the head trauma Frank suffered has left him suffering from aphasia. He believes he is speaking to us coherently while…"

"Fruit punch, turkey*."

"…what he's actually saying is gobbley-gook," Markus finished.

"Correct."

"_Your humor_ tenor has the door, grapes*!" Frank stated as if to reiterate their point.

Silence briefly reigned over the group as they each internally debated what to do. "So," Markus piped up, "We know he can't talk but can he still walk?"

"Right." Paul changed position again. "Frank, we're gonna try and get you up on your feet, ok?" There was some jostling about and the raft kept squeaking before it seemed he was up on his own two legs; that lasted less than 10 seconds before everyone cried "Whoa!" and Frank landed back in the raft with a hard thud. "I think that's a no."

Selas took a deep sniff of the cold, crisp air. "We should not delay any longer. I believe a heavy snowfall is imminent. Paul, I am also now sufficiently recovered enough to assist Markus in towing the raft."

His friend got up and dusted himself off. "Alright. Let's head out."

Frank kept up a steady patter of incoherent grumbling as they trudged through the snow until finally Rick had enough. "CAN IT, FRANK! If it weren't for you and your dumbass godfather we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place! And these guys just literally saved our asses so why don't you do us all a great big favor and SHUT! THE FUCK! _UP_!"

Markus briefly let go of the rope and began a slow, deliberate clap. "Well said." He picked the line back up and kept walking.

"Trapezius figs*."

* * *

_** Admiral Odessa Galatas' Private Residence, San Francisco, **_**2287.236, 2140 hours.** "Odie, if you'll just look at the facts in evidence…"

"I am, Christopher, and I'm still not convinced of misconduct," she replied, glaring at him over the top of the PADD. "And you know I hate that name."

"You're right, I'm sorry." Chris glanced out the window overlooking the night skyline and the Bay. Odessa wasn't happy about the home interruption but she agreed to speak with him privately when she saw how insistent he was. Meanwhile Nyota waited patiently out in the hall.

The Admiral sighed and set the PADD down, sliding it across the tabletop. "Honestly? I think you're too close to this to be objective. Rourke's got a spotless record and he'd never risk his career by doing the things you're accusing him of."

"And Dr. Dietrich's accusations? What about those, are they unfounded too?"

"He's never worked with Bradley before, never been to camp; he doesn't know what it's like training green cadets…"

Chris ran a hand down in his haggard face; truth be told he looked a little deflated. "Alright, maybe you're right, maybe I am too close to this," he said, acknowledging his close ties to the family in question, "But aren't you the least bit concerned that 5 cadets and their senior officer have been missing without a trace for the last 11 hours?"

"It's a training mission…"

"And there's almost zero paperwork to back that up, just a flight manifest and Commander Rourke's _word_," he added pointedly.

Narrowing her eyes, Odessa reclaimed the PADD and started calling up data from Soledad. It quickly became apparent that every other exercise had the requisite paperwork to back it up save for this mission; furthermore there wasn't any secondary evidence to be found either, such as the name of the pilot flying the shuttle or who overhauled the craft prior to take-off. The training mission involving Cadet Selas was completely blacked out.

She still couldn't see how Bradley could be involved in such a thing but Pike was right, it was suspicious and did warrant further investigation.

* * *

**?, 2287.237, local time unknown. **22.9 minutes later the snow began to fall and within the first hour at least 12.7 centimeters had drifted down by Selas' estimation. They were all feeling the cold now despite their best efforts to keep warm, and although he wore a woolen cap the icy air nipped at his ears and he no longer had adequate sensation in both his ears and nose. Paul was constantly stomping his feet to draw extra sensation to his toes while Markus rubbed his hands together once every 4.3 minutes. Rick's teeth were chattering so loud Selas knew exactly where he was and Frank would not stop drawing his hands vigorously up and down the front of his jacket to heat up his core; the only silent one among them was Lieutenant Commander Pravat.

They all grew quiet as they trekked on, and by the second hour he could tell by Paul and Rick's mumbling that Frank had slipped back into unconsciousness which was not a good sign. Given his ordeal that morning Rick was also struggling to keep up and if he became unable to carry on Selas was uncertain that they would be able to tow him in the raft. As for him his whole body felt heavy with from all the exertion but he was loathe to stop and lose momentum. Each kilometer took longer than the last and he sensed that Rick was ready to give up when after 4.59 hours they reached the beacon.

"I SEE IT!" Markus cried out jubilantly. "I SEE IT!" They surged forward up a short little incline with Rick catching and stopping Selas before he ran headlong into the device.

"Can it be activated?" he asked, vocalizing their collective fears of more tampering and trickery.

"Yeah, I got it." Paul crouched beside the beacon and removed his gloves to set about activating the signal. Something must have been wrong because Markus tried and failed to hold back a hiss.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing, Selas," Paul said rather curtly. Presently he heard the faint whine and consistent electric chirping of the device powering up.

"Is that all?" Rick asked.

Paul shifted from a crouch and sat back against the beacon, his legs splayed out and crunching the snow. "That's it."

"What do we do now?" Markus inquired.

Selas felt forward and moved to sit beside Paul. "Now we wait."

* * *

_** Starfleet Headquarters, Officer's Billet, **_**2287.237, 0429 hours.** The door to Admiral Pike's office had been left ajar and he looked around the screen at Nyota's sleeping form shifting on the sofa. Admiral Galatas requested that she be kept informed of his progress; meanwhile Nyota and Admiral Pike retired to their respective beds only 3.18 hours ago, unable to help any further in the investigation. Spock worked tirelessly throughout the evening, occasionally believing that he had caught traces of the missing cadets' trail only to ultimately discover that these brief leads came to nothing.

And as he worked he could not help but dwell on Selas and what trials he must be enduring at that very moment.

* * *

**?, 2287.237, local time unknown.** After 17.2 minutes with no shuttle in sight they considered erecting the tent that Frank and Rick had in their possession only to discover it torn and useless in Frank's pack from his collision with the ice cliff. According to the others there was nothing else in the vicinity to afford them any type of shelter and so they remained huddled together under a thin blanket sharing body heat. Had they not all been wearing several layers of clothing the close physical contact would have been overwhelming for Selas; as it was it was still less than ideal.

"H-h-how long…do these t-t-things…usually t-t-take?" Markus asked through chattering teeth.

Selas struggled to keep his voice even as his body shook violently. "I. Do. Not. Know."

* * *

One by one they succumbed to exhaustion until he was the last man up. As he felt Paul's head come to rest on his shoulder Selas struggled to stay awake. The snow piled on top of them like a downy, icy, blanket, and fell so heavy and thick that if they were not vigilant they might not be spotted by the rescue shuttle.

He had to stay awake.

He had to.

He had to.

* * *

Selas' head bobbed against his chest and snapped back up. How much time had passed? He could not tell. Cold—everything was cold. He had never felt so numb before and feared if he moved that his limbs would shatter like glass.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Help was coming. Help was coming.

* * *

There. Selas blinked unseeing against the sky. He could have sworn he heard the sound of sonic engines headed their way. Holding his breath he concentrated on the sound but it was muffled by the wind.

_ Whump, whump, whump, whump, whump_... Mindful of Paul's head he set his friend aside then jumped up, his entire body screaming in protest against the action.

"WE'RE HERE!" Selas cried, waving up at the sky. "WE'RE HERE!"

He did not stop waving until he heard the shuttle land and the hatch open up. A single pair of boots stepped out and crunched along into the snow. Selas held his breath, uncertain as to who had just come to their rescue, when a woman's thick Texas drawl cut through the air.

"Well hello there, son. What're you boys doin' all the way out here?"

Selas collapsed in a heap before he could answer.

* * *

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, **_**2287.237, 1110 hours.** Hugo hung up the line then instantly dialed the Commanders' address in San Francisco. His communication was re-routed to Admiral Christopher Pike's quarters where he was greeted by Commander Spock. Neither one bothered exchanging pleasantries. "I just got a hail that we're to expect 6 incoming with at least 3 critical."

The Commander cocked his head to the side. "What makes you certain that the trauma cases you are about to receive are from Selas' shuttle?"

Hugo didn't miss a beat. "Because they specifically requested that I meet them when they hit the ground."

Mr. Spock's mouth set in a firm, angry line. "We will join you in Soledad as soon as we can." He nodded at the Commander as the line cut out then raced to his post.

* * *

Bradley listened to the open comm channel and watched the screen on the shuttle's dash, cursing his rotten luck. It started with Oswald missing the mission and ended with someone else reaching the team first before he could try and cover his tracks. Altering course he set his sights for London to try and concoct a plausible alibi.

* * *

**Translations from Frank's Aphasia:**

* What happened?

* Shut up. Where did you guys come from? And why am I in this boat?

* No.

* I said no!

* What do you mean I'm not making any sense?

* Shut up, Freak.

* _I said_ shut the fuck up, Freak!

* Screw you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Coming Clean**

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California**_**, 2287.237, 1540 hours.** He felt a sudden pressure against his cheek—firm, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

:::_a pair of heels beating a steady, retreating staccato against the linoleum_:::

:::_a person coughing_:::

:::_curtains being drawn_:::

:::_shifting bed sheets_:::

:::_a low moan_:::

:::_a name_:::

More pressure was applied along with a message. "_You must awaken, sa-fu_." Selas struggled against the bonds of sleep. A third blow was delivered and he blinked awake. "Sa-mekh?" His voice was hoarse from disuse and as he attempted to sit up he felt Mama's cool hand on his back easing his way while a straw was pressed to his lips.

"Yes, sa-fu. Your mother and I are here." _And we were deeply concerned for your safety_.

Selas gulped the water greedily; when he was through he nodded and laid his head back against the newly raised bed and pillows. "I was concerned as well," he answered aloud. Mama brushed the hair off his forehead with feather light touches. "How are the others?"

He felt her hand still in his hair and neither parent answered him immediately. Finally Mama spoke. "They're resting right now, Sweetie." He listened to her refill his cup. "Here, have some more water." Selas knew when his questions were being deflected.

"Sa-mekh?"

His sa-mekh exhaled in a manner that, had he been anything other than Vulcan, would have been termed a sigh. "Lieutenant Commander Pravat's leg has been re-set and he is currently sitting under the osteo-regenerator to expedite the healing process. Cadet Billings presented with a broken arm, which has also been re-set, and he too is sitting under the osteo-regenerator. You and Cadets Billings, Johnson and Adams all suffered varying degrees of hypothermia and exhaustion for which you are receiving individualized treatments from your physicians. Cadet Mason suffered a traumatic brain injury which has required extensive surgery. He has not yet left the operating room though he is expected to survive."

Selas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Now that they were all out of danger a myriad number of emotions washed over him. He was grateful to have survived but was also violently angry that he and his friends had been subjected to such abuse in the first place; and, for perhaps the first time in his life, he cursed his own blindness for putting them in such a precarious position.

"Selas?" Mama said, still stroking his hair. "Why didn't you tell us about Commander Rourke?"

He scowled then quickly tried to hide the grimace. "What do you know?"

He heard his sa-mekh about to launch into a speech full of particulars before his mother cut him off. "We know enough. Why didn't you say something?"

"I was handling the situation on my own," he replied with as little inflection as possible.

"The manner in which you attempted to resolve this issue was insufficient." Selas gritted his teeth; he now had a better appreciation for how Se'tak felt when Sa-mekh stated the obvious. "We are attempting to bring the Commander in now for further questioning and a thorough review is being undertaken into his behavior here at camp, both now and in the past."

In the past? "I do not understand."

Mama placed a hand on his shoulder. "Commander Rourke's missing; he disappeared not long after you boys did. Since Starfleet was made aware of your missing shuttle they've been looking into the Commander's record; he's been running the camp for the last 12 years and we suspect that you're not the first cadet…" her voice trailed off.

"I'm not the first what!?" he asked sharply. Selas instantly felt ashamed—he had not intended to speak to her so harshly. Still, the idea that Commander Rourke had used his position to bully other cadets in the past, and the knowledge that he had stayed silent just like those before him, irritated Selas to his very core and prompted his anger to increase tenfold.

Sa-mekh placed a hand on his arm—exposed as it was by the hospital gown—and deepened the bond. _Peace, sa-fu. We mean you no harm_. But Selas did not want peace; he did not want to be calm. His parents were poking at raw emotional wounds which he was too tired and ill-equipped to handle right now. He curled on his side away from their touch. "I am tired. Please leave me."

* * *

He turned away from her, curling up on himself and looking so small and helpless that it made her heart break. Nyota looked up to Spock, his face resolute, her expression begging to remain by Selas' bedside even though it was expressly against her son's wishes. With a shake of the head he bade her follow and she slowly rose from the plastic chair, hesitating.

"_He requires rest, k'diwa,_" Spock said. "_We will not venture far and will return to his side shortly._"

She did not want to leave but his look and tone brokered no argument and so followed him down the hall. They were nearing the lobby when Dr. Dietrich came upon them working intently on a PADD. His gaze flicked up at their approach. "Any news on Rourke?"

Spock shook his head. "Admiral Pike and Admiral Galatas are coordinating the search from Headquarters and have stated that they will contact us when there is news."

The Doctor looked away, internalizing his anger. "If I'd only done more…"

Nyota placed a hand on the sleeve of his white coat. "Dr. Dietrich, no one understands better than us what a difficult position you were in. Believe me, if this hadn't happened to Selas we might not have believed another officer could act like this either." He gratefully squeezed her hand as she chanced a look at his PADD. He had been reviewing past medical reports for any other suspicious incidents that involved Commander Rourke. "Have you found anything?"

Hugo's mouth set in a thin line. "Yes and no."

Spock quirked his head. "Explain."

Dr. Dietrich began a rather lengthy account of the goings on of the camp for the last dozen years. Injuries and accidents were to be expected but as he reviewed the past medical files he discovered several cadets with injuries that—had the severity of them been made known outside of Soledad—would have raised red flags with Command; the cadets themselves also had personal hallmarks that, if Selas was any kind of model to go by, would have made them prime targets for Commander Rourke. Of the 17 cadets Hugo flagged as potential victims of Rourke's 'special attention' none passed basic training; the longest one lasted just 29 days before washing out of the program. Selas was the first to reach survival training.

"Why did previous physicians not make note of these discrepancies as they occurred?" Spock asked.

"Well that's the thing," Dr. Dietrich explained, "I'm the first doctor here who's been dedicated solely to one patient. No one else picked up on the pattern because staff rotates from year-to-year and—based on the sheer volume of cadets—practice a sort of 'catch and release' medicine." Sensing Spock's confusion he added, "If a physician's available when a cadet walks in they treat that cadet. Of the people I've flagged none of them ever saw the same doctor more than twice; if anyone looked more closely at the files then they probably thought they were just accident prone."

Nyota furrowed her brow at the disheartening news and glanced over to see Spock's slight frown. Just then his personal communicator chirped and he excused himself to answer the call.

"I'm about to go check on him, but how'd your son look to you, Commander?"

"Tired," she automatically answered, re-calling the way he sank back into the pillows. "But his color looks good."

"That's good," Dr. Dietrich said with a smile. "I don't think he'll have to spend more than a day here before being released to his quarters."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"My pleasure."

Spock rejoined them just then, his communicator clenched in his hands. "Commander Rourke has been apprehended. He is now in the Brig in San Francisco."

* * *

**1911 hours. **His parents sat with him throughout the afternoon before he insisted they return home; Selas was glad he urged them on for within half an hour a member of Starfleet's JAG corp came to take his statement. He recounted everything of relevance—from his first days at camp with Commander Rourke to the moment he and the others were rescued—as there was no longer any logic in remaining quiet on the subject. The knowledge that there were others out there who had done as he had done and maintained their silence spurred him on. Selas would not stand to see another cadet crushed under the Commander's boot heel.

When he was through giving his interview Selas asked to be taken around to the others' beds and see to their well-being. Markus was about to be discharged, and now that their ordeal was over he chatted away happily, talking about nothing but long hot showers and good hot food. Rick was in good spirits despite the state of his arm. He would be remaining overnight while the bones healed, awaiting one more osteo-regen treatment in the morning. Lieutenant Commander Pravat was resting so Selas did not disturb him and Frank was still unconscious from surgery. The last bed he visited was Paul's.

"Hey man," his friend called out. His voice sounded weak. "You ok?"

"I am recovering," Selas replied. Reaching about for a chair he soon found one and sat down. "How are you?"

"Hangin' in there." Paul chuckled and he listened to the steady beep of monitors beside the bed.

"Have you spoken with any JAG officials yet?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes," Selas said, "And I have told them everything."

"Good." Paul coughed and groped about for some water. "'Bout time." He sucked down several deep droughts through a straw.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?"

"How badly were you injured?"

His friend hesitated, then set his cup aside. "Not _too_ badly…"

"Clarify."

Paul sighed. "I broke a couple fingers dragging the guys back up. That and the cold weather…well, let's just say that my fingers and toes hurt like hell and my left hand's kind of fucked up for a little while." In that self-deprecating manner that was classic Paul he added, "What can I say? Hypothermia's a bitch."

He let out a little mirthless laugh that Selas could not reciprocate; after all, he was the one responsible for this entire mess. "I am sorry, Paul. This should not have happened to you."

"What?" he asked, incredulous. "Selas, this isn't your fault. I know you've got a thick Vulcan skull protecting that big head of yours but how many times do we have to tell you you're not to blame?"

Selas started to refute him. "Were I not the target of Commander Rourke's illogical prejudice…"

"…then we might've been on a totally sanctioned survival training trip out in the snow instead of the one we were on. I'm telling you, none of that matters now, what matters is we're back here in one piece and Commander Hard Ass is getting what's coming to him."

Upon hearing that Selas did smile and felt some of the tension he had been carrying around drain from his shoulders.

* * *

_**Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California, **_**2287.238, 0735 hours. **The following morning Selas awoke to a sliver of sun on his face and the scent of cherry blossoms wafting up his nose. He rolled over onto his back and attempted to surreptitiously wipe the drool from the side of his mouth.

"Morning, Sleepyhead."

Consulting his internal chronometer he determined that he had not slept quite as late as she implied. "Good morning."

"Heard you had quite a trip." Rebecca kept her tone light but he could tell she was worried. He tried changing topics.

"How was your trip? When did you return?"

She sighed and he heard the rustle of fabric as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in the plastic chair. She always could see right through him but this time decided not to press the issue. "It was fine. Jamas, Missy and I, along with Cadets Vitter and Tully, spent a couple days on an uphill hike in the woods. We got in last night and I ran into your parents in the quad; they told me you were here." She paused and he envisioned her chewing the inside of her lip. Very hesitantly she said, "They kind of told me a little bit about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he quickly replied. Reminding himself of his manners he added, "But thank you for asking."

"Ok." The comfortable silence that always existed between the pair settled and Selas found himself feeling better simply knowing she was there. "You know," Rebecca finally declared, "When Jamas finds out where you guys were he's going to be _so_ jealous."

Selas grinned and played along. "Truly?"

"Oh yeah. The coldest it ever got for us was like 4°C, and that was only at night. He even got a bit of sunburn on his shoulders our second day out from all the heat and he wouldn't stop moaning and groaning about how purple his skin was turning." She chuckled. "Yeah, Jamas definitely would've killed to be in your shoes."

"I have no doubt."

She spent the rest of the morning aimlessly chatting away with him. Markus and Paul popped in so they could all share breakfast together; and in that time Selas realized how truly fortunate he was in his group of friends.


	10. Chapter 10

**Jeffrey**

_** Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2287.268, 1305 hours. **Selas crossed the quad and returned to his dorm room to change and wash up, slinging his book bag onto the bed before proceeding to his closet for a fresh uniform.

It had been a full month since camp. Upon his release from the infirmary he, Paul and Markus took some time to talk and recuperate. Markus (unsurprisingly given what they went through) wavered in his commitment to Starfleet, but after a lengthy afternoon chat with Admiral Pike he decided to give the institution another chance. Commander Rourke was placed on probation until his trial in October and was ordered not to come within 30 meters of the Academy grounds or Cadet Selas, Adams, Johnson or Doctor Dietrich.

Mama and Sa-mekh initially attempted to convince him to return home after camp (to recover, they said) but Selas resolved to remain with his class and get situated at the Academy, going through orientation and campus tours same as everyone else though he did not require them. He did not know whether it was by accident or design (though he highly suspected Admiral Pike had a hand in the assignments) but he was again placed in a room with Paul and each were very pleased with the arrangement. Markus and Jamas were together across the hall while Rebecca was housed in the floor above them with a cadet by the name of Emilia Lattimer.

Classes themselves began exactly one week after camp ended and he was now 2.7 weeks into the semester. Selas admired and respected his professors and found each lecture he attended more intellectually stimulating than the last. He was excited for the next 4 years, however, he was fast discovering a problem.

He could not see.

Granted, this was not news to him, but in his previous years of schooling his blindness had never been an issue. Formerly Selas had had access to Braille learning material and had been afforded special status by staff and fellow students to 'borrow' their sight as needed when visual information was presented. Now the Braille materials were few and while his friends were happy to help him they had their own lectures and coursework to attend to and could not always spare the time; Selas also did not want to involve his parents in his predicament as they were already overprotective of him given everything that went on at camp. While he knew he was up to the rigorous academic challenge he was falling increasingly behind in his work.

All that was about to change after a summons from his advisor.

* * *

** 1329 hours.** She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Patricia was a civilian admin working for Admiral Pike and she'd seen Selas around often enough to know who he was. He was also the same age as her son and the boys had gone to school together though they moved in different circles. Today, however, was the first time she'd seen him in uniform and as he drew closer to the desk she smiled.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Munn."

"Afternoon, Cadet. You're looking very sharp in those reds."

"Thank you," he replied with a tip of his head. "I trust you are well?"

_He's so polite, his parents must be so proud. _"I am."

"And how is Jacob?"

Patricia let out a little laugh. "Oh he's good. He's off in Boston now, did you know that? He's settling in well from what he tells me—then again the only time he comms is when he needs money so who knows what's actually going on?"

Selas smiled. "I am pleased to hear that he is doing well. Would you please let the Admiral know that I am available when he is ready for me?"

"Of course, dear." As she buzzed the Admiral to remind him of his appointment she watched Selas point his laser cane at the far wall, locate an empty seat and sit down to wait.

* * *

Chris was running a few minutes behind but he wasn't concerned. Pressing a finger to his lips he paged Pat to admit Selas. The cadet walked smartly through the door, stopping a meter short of his desk, and gave a smart salute. "Good afternoon, Admiral."

_Wait for it…_ "Afternoon, Cadet. Please, have a seat."

Selas held out his cane and was about to take the proffered chair when he quirked his head to the side and listened close. "Forgive me, Admiral, but I believe there is someone else present you wish to introduce me to."

Chris slapped his hands together gleefully. "Told you he was good. Cadet, this is Ensign Jeffrey Pullman. Ensign, this is Cadet Selas."

"Good to meet you," Jeff said.

Selas took a seat and nodded, folding his hands in his lap and carefully concealing his cane. "Likewise."

Pike went on. "Cadet, I've asked Jeff to come in here to talk to you today because I've had a few calls from your teachers; they're concerned about how you're doing in class and I believe the ensign can help you."

Selas furrowed his brow. "I am not sure that I follow you, Sir. I know that I am capable of doing the work. The semester is only 2.7 weeks old and I will soon find my rhythm. I am not sure that I will need Ensign Pullman's assistance."

"Admiral," Jeff interjected, "If I may, perhaps the cadet and I could go for a walk around the quad, talk a little, get to know each—then we'll see where we stand and if we're a good fit."

Chris thought that was a very good idea. "Of course. Dismissed, both of you."

* * *

Selas, still confused by the entire proceeding, rose and saluted the Admiral; he listened to Pullman stand beside him and do the same. He led the way out and once they were past Mrs. Munn's desk the ensign fell into step beside him. Straightaway Selas noticed that Ensign Pullman had a distinctive gait; it was not one that other people were likely to detect but Selas distinguished that he favored his left leg more than his right. It was of little consequence save for when they were in a crowd as it made his movements easier to track.

They walked down the stairs together with neither one saying a word. For his part Selas was still puzzling over his meeting with Admiral Pike. He had meant it when he said he would find his rhythm—it would just take a little more time. It was not the material itself Selas was having difficulty with but the heavy reliance on visual presentation of the information; and if Admiral Pike believed a private tutor would be of use to him than he was sorely off the mark.

* * *

They walked out the building and into the bright light of day in silence. Strolling along the grassy knoll with Selas leading the way Jeff openly studied his new assignment as they went. The Admiral had told him a bit about the cadet's story and alluded to his recent treatment at camp and he could see that Selas was still guarded even as he tried to project an aura of indifference. Hopefully he'd be able to do his part to help him move forward successfully at the Academy—Lord knows he was itching to be useful again.

"There's a bench around the bend up ahead. What do you say we have a seat and talk?"

"Of course."

Jeff watched him move with practiced ease and he didn't know how Selas did it. He must've strolled through these grounds hundreds of times and even now, closing his eyes for just a few seconds, he stumbled over his own two feet. Then again, he was still getting used to the leg so that might have something to do with it too.

Selas waved the cane along in a steady pattern left to right, taking a seat once he found the bench. Jeff cleared his throat. "So, I suppose you want to know a little bit more about me?" He took Selas' silence for acquiescence. "Ok, well, let's see. I'm from Idaho originally—came down here to San Francisco 6 years ago for training. I had a dual focus here at the Academy in pedology and edaphology; that's the…"

"The study of soil in it's natural environment and the study of soil's influence on living things such as plants and fungi."

Jeff cracked a smile. The Admiral was right, the kid was sharp. "Right. Anyhow, after graduation I was assigned to the U.S.S. Hood until I came home about 9 months ago. Starfleet's been trying to figure out what to do with me ever since." He noticed the last part of his speech caught Selas' attention.

"Why were you re-assigned to Earth instead of remaining on-board the Hood?"

He rubbed his good knee. "Well, you see, it wasn't exactly my choice." Jeff closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the sun. "You ever hear stories about the Gulmeeran snake?"

Selas shook his head. "No, Sir."

He smiled again. "No need to be so formal with me; after all, I'm not much older than you are."

"As you wish."

Selas' face was inscrutable, and for the first time Jeff wondered if this arrangement was going to work. "Um, where was I again?"

"I believe you were about to explain the eccentricities of the Gulmeeran snake."

"Oh, right." He reached down beside the bench and absently picked up a fallen branch. "Gulmeera is a little planet on the edge of the Beta quadrant that's only been recently studied. It's really similar to Earth, actually, only the air's thick with phosphorous so it's harder to breathe. I was part of a team tasked with beaming down to the surface to collect soil and plant samples for study when I felt something bite me on my ankle." Jeff sighed. "I didn't even feel the thing crawl up between my pants and my boot, that's how fast it all happened. Initially I didn't think anything of it—I mean the bite stung like hell and all but that was about it—and it wasn't until I got back to the ship that I started to feel strange."

"The Gulmeeran snake is poisonous?" Selas ventured.

Jeff nodded. "It's deadly. It's venom contains trace amounts of radiation." He let out another sigh. Those first few days after the mission were some of the worst in his life; he slipped in and out of consciousness too many times to count and always, ALWAYS, there was the excruciating pain radiating up first his leg, then his whole side.

"Fortunately for me—or not so fortunately for the other guy, depending on how you look at it—I wasn't the first person to be bitten by this thing. My problem was I didn't tell anybody when it happened so no one knew what was wrong. By the time they figured it out and found the bite it was too late to save my leg." Jeff lifted up his pant leg and beat the stick against the plastic and carbon fiber material. "You hear that? That's my prosthetic. I had to have an emergency transfemoral amputation on-board the ship. They sent me back to Earth for rest and rehab and the rest, as they say, is history."

He looked over to Selas and saw the first real emotion—concern—on his face. Maybe he was getting through to him after all. "Jeffrey, there is one detail of your ordeal that I do not understand," he replied after several moments thoughtful silence.

"Oh? What's that?"

"A prosthetic limb should not preclude you from service, so why have you not rejoined your ship or been given another assignment?"

"Funny you should mention that…" he started, only to see that Selas was not smiling but was indeed in earnest. Jeff sobered. "The Gulmeera snake venom, well…it lingers."

"Lingers?"

He nodded. "I have to have bi-weekly blood draws to check my RI levels; if they come back high than I have to go in for remedial irradiation treatment. It's not the type of thing done on-board a starship and so I'm grounded for the foreseeable future."

"I see. For how long are you grounded?"

"For the next four and a half years or so. Studies have shown that after about 5 years the RI levels level out—only then will I be considered in the clear and able to go back on active duty."

"Understood." Selas sat there pondering who knows what and Jeff slouched down in his seat, watching and waiting. "Jeffrey, how does Admiral Pike think that you would be able to assist me?"

"Well the way he explained it to me is you're a pretty strong touch telepath and I think he wants me to be your eyes." He watched his companion's face open in shock.

"You mean he wants you to act in a capacity similar to a seeing eye dog?"

Jeff barked out a laugh. "I never thought of it like that but I guess so! Hopefully you'll think I'm smarter than a dog, at any rate. Would it be so bad if I was your seeing eye guy instead?"

"I do not know." Selas got all pensive again and Jeff was dying to know what was going on inside his head. "I daresay it would not be the most comfortable assignment for you."

He winced in spite of himself. The Admiral didn't say it would hurt. "Oh?"

"I believe it would be fairly boring for you as you would, in essence, be repeating your time at the Academy all over again."

"Oh that!" he exclaimed in relief, "I can handle that! Besides, it's not like you're studying edaphology and pedology…"

"I am studying xenoanthropology…"

"…and I can stay awake for any lecture so long as I'm not expected to take a test in it. It's a gift," he said with a sly wink and a grin. "Honestly though, Selas, I just want to be useful again. They've got me stuck behind a desk right now and if I don't get out and do something productive _soon_ I'm going to lose my mind."

It was slight, but Jeff saw the corners of Selas' mouth tick ever-so-slightly upward. "You sound like my brother Se'tak."

Well it wasn't much but he did seem to be opening up a _little_ bit. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"You may take my comment however you see fit."

_Ok, now that was __definitely_ _a smirk_. Jeff grinned at this little sign of success and put his hands behind his head, leaning up into the sun. "So how exactly does this work, anyway?"

Beside him he heard Selas plop his glasses back on his face and rise to his feet. "If you will accompany me to my dorm room I will be able to give you a demonstration."

* * *

They walked across campus in easy silence, Selas contemplating everything the ensign had imparted to him. Jeffrey was prepared to become—how had he put it?—his 'seeing eye guy'. It was, he readily admitted, an elegant solution to a most unique problem and based on their brief interview Selas thought he was more than qualified. Still, as this was meant to be a long term arrangement (one that Admiral Pike likely expected would last the rest of his academic career) he was not fully prepared to commit to the idea until he was certain that he and Jeffrey would be compatible.

They climbed the stairs and disembarked on the third floor, the ensign trailing him by one or two steps. "My room is at the end of the hall." Selas listened close and detected that Jeffrey was relying more heavily on his left leg than he had been previously. "Are you in need of rest or assistance?"

"No, I'm fine," he replied, "Just still havin' a bit of trouble navigating stairs. It's worse going down than it is going up but I'm working on it."

Selas nodded and led the way. Palming the door code he quickly discovered that Paul was absent. Unlike their bunk at training, their room here did not contain a private bath; instead they were forced to share a communal bathroom at the end of the hall. They did, however, each possess a chest of drawers with a mirror hung on the wall over each for their own personal use. Helping Jeffrey into position they stood side-by-side in front of the mirror. "If you would be so kind as to roll up your shirtsleeve and expose your arm then we may begin."

* * *

Jeff wasn't sure what to expect. He tried to distract himself by looking around the room; it was far neater than his room ever was but it was still easy to see which half belonged to Selas and which to his roommate. Standing before the mirror, shirtsleeve rolled up, he tried to focus on what Selas was saying and push back the commingled excitement and apprehension he had about the coming meld.

"You must remember to keep breathing," Selas calmly stated, his hand snaking out towards his arm. Jeff felt the warmth of his palm seep into his skin—he had only a few seconds to register the temperature difference between them before his sight began to grow dim, his world view narrowing until it was nothing more than a pinprick.

Then it all went black. His world was _completely_ black. He couldn't see a single thing.

"Breathe," Selas reiterated, exaggerating his own breath sounds to jumpstart Jeff's.

_Right_. This blindness was only temporary after all; if he took the job then this would be happening more often and for longer periods of time then just a few seconds.

* * *

Jeffrey was tense, just as most people were when he first conducted melds like this. Selas blinked, acclimating himself to the bright light, and after reminding the ensign to breathe he directed his attention toward the mirror. He and Jeffrey were roughly the same height, though the ensign was of a much fairer complexion. He had close-cut, reddish-brown hair and light brown eyes with a handful of freckles dotting his cheeks. Despite knowing that Jeffrey was six years his senior Selas thought he looked to be closer to his own 18.13 years of age.

"Well?" Jeffrey asked. Blinking rapidly he turned his head around the room, seeing nothing while giving Selas a glimpse of Paul's unmade bed. "Do I pass muster?" He was grinning and his enthusiasm seeped across the light bond.

If Jeffrey was willing and the arrangement was suitable to each of them then who was Selas to say no?

He slowly withdrew from the meld. "If you are certain that you wish to participate in this endeavor then I will forward you a copy of my class schedule."

"Great."

With Jeffrey's assistance his grades and participation in class improved markedly before the week was even out.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **This chapter kind of got away from me—I thought about splitting it in two but that interrupted the flow, so…it is what it is. Hopefully you'll still like it!

* * *

**The Trial**

_** Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2287.289, 1235 hours. **As Selas zipped up his uniform jacket he listened to Paul stand before his mirror and inspect his own appearance. "So, will Jeff be joining us?"

"No," he replied, smoothing down the collar and brushing off his sleeves. "It was decided that Ensign Pullman's presence would not be beneficial to the case being made against Commander Rourke."

"Oh. Right. Good call." Paul picked a comb up off his dresser and neatened his hair. "You need any help over there?"

"No, thank you." The previous evening Selas polished his boots until Paul declared he could eat off them, and he had had his uniform professionally pressed by a dry cleaning facility just off campus. Everything about his person, he was certain, was spotless; he only hoped that the rest of the day proceeded blemish-free.

Paul stopped shifting about. "You nervous?"

"I am…" he hesitated, unwilling to lie, "…_anxious_ about my testimony."

His friend stepped forward and clapped him on the back. "Well don't worry, you got me and a whole bunch of other people backing you up." Paul walked toward the door. "Commader Rourke'll get his due. Now come on, we've got to go or we'll be late." He continued muttering to himself as he stepped out into the hall, something about wishing he had stopped to eat, and Selas quickly followed him.

* * *

_**Daestrom Center, Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco,**_** 2287.289 1258 hours.** The proceedings were closed, with only a select number of Starfleet officials allowed in attendance, and when they reached the court room they reported to the officer guarding the door who then led them to their seats. Judging by the acoustics the room was set up in an amphitheater style and was moderately sized, unlike the large auditorium where orientation had been held. He wanted to ask Paul if he might take a look around but the prosecutor's warning not to "give the defense anything to work with" echoed in the back of his mind and he stopped himself.

Selas settled into his seat and closed his eyes, calling on various meditative techniques to force himself to relax. He sensed Mama and Sa-mekh's presence nearby but chose not to focus on them; he knew Doctor Dietrich was in the room as well, as he was scheduled to testify after he and Paul spoke. One by one Selas tuned out all other thoughts and sounds until his steady breathing was the only thing he heard.

Then the ruling council filed back in and Admiral Cartwright banged the gavel, summoning the now-full room to order and jarring him back to reality. The trial took up with Lieutenant Commander Pravat's testimony. He had been given new orders after Commander Rourke's arrest and was currently serving under Captain Shannon aboard the _U.S.S. Dakota_. His comm signal flickered in and out numerous times but it was the only way he was able to participate in the trial given his current assignment. Although Selas was no judge of court proceedings he did find the Lieutenant Commander's speech to be very damaging for the defense.

Once the cross examination was complete Cadet Rick Billings was called to the stand; he explained how Frank had encouraged him and others to pick on Selas throughout camp and how he knew nothing about the rigged shuttle until his friend thrust a re-breather into his hands and told him to keep quiet. Rick went on to add how he attempted to assist Lieutenant Commander Pravat but Frank forbade him, restraining him while the Lieutenant Commander was thrown around during the rocky landing, then making him gather up and carry all the supplies they would need for their trek while checking that the others would not wake. Rick did as he was told because Frank "looked like a mad man" and he "threatened to strand him with the rest of the 'losers'" if he did not comply.

Defense Attorney Rafaela Vasquez spent a long time picking Rick's testimony apart. Selas knew Rick was sorry for his past actions—he had apologized to him personally once they returned to San Francisco—but until today he did not know that it was this contriteness that kept him in Starfleet. Frank Mason had been promptly expelled from the program once his health had improved and the Admissions council was prepared to expel Rick as well, only Admiral Pike intervened on his behalf. Attorney Vasquez made the situation sound as if the Admiral only behaved as he did to secure Rick's negative testimony against the Commander; however, those that knew the Admiral as Selas did knew he acted because Cadet Billings had learned a valuable lesson which would make him a better officer.

Frank was called to the stand once Rick was dismissed. Selas could feel the tension in the room ratchet up and sensed Frank's contemptuous glare on him throughout his part of the trial. He did not give his testimony freely to the prosecution and was threatened with contempt and possible time spent in the brig if he refused to cooperate. Conversely, Frank spoke in nothing but glowing terms when the defense asked him to tell the court what kind of man his godfather was. Selas hoped the ruling council would see through the sham as easily as he could.

As time passed Selas became aware that the court was not going to be able to hear all the witness testimonies scheduled that afternoon, a fact which the council seemed to collectively take note of as Frank stepped down and they asked both attorneys to approach the bench. It was decided that Paul's testimony would be the last given before they ended for the day and that Selas would start the trial again tomorrow.

Paul was not happy to hear this.

"She did this on purpose, I'm tellin' you," he whispered in his ear.

"Who?"

"The defense attorney, Vasquez. Once I say my peace I won't be allowed back in here which means you're on your own tomorrow."

_Oh_. He had not thought of the situation in that light. It was, Selas decided, a most underhanded strategy—not that he believed he needed the moral support and physical presence of his friend to get through his testimony but it was appreciated nonetheless. Now, Defense Attorney Vasquez was denying him even that for the sake of her client.

His low opinion of Commander Rourke sank even lower.

"The Prosecution calls Cadet Adams to the stand," Prosecutor D'Nae said. Selas listened to Paul walk straight toward the witness box. "Please state your full name for the record."

"Paul Matthew Adams."

"Thank you. Cadet Adams, why don't you tell us how you first became acquainted with Cadet Selas."

The microphone picked up the sound of his friend shifting in his seat. "Sure. Selas and I met at the training camp. We shared a bunk."

Prosecutor D'Nae began to pace. "I see. And what was your first impression of your roommate?"

"Well considering I woke him up in the middle of the night and he didn't chew me out on the spot I'd say my first impression of him was pretty good." Paul's response garnered laughter from the crowd and he smiled slightly to himself in remembrance of that evening.

"And after you got to know him better? What were your thoughts then?"

"I thought he was a pretty nice guy, very easy going; I was lucky to get him for a roommate. We became friends almost instantly."

Prosecutor D'Nae paused. "Cadet, what about Selas' blindness?"

"What about it?"

"Has it affected your friendship at all?"

"No," Paul quickly replied. "I mean, we can't go to the movie theater for obvious reasons but that's about the extent of it." Another chuckle rippled throughout the room

The prosecutor slowly rubbed her hands together. "Very well. Why don't you tell us a little bit more about camp then, hmm? You said that you and Cadet Selas became fast friends. I understand that you escorted him to Medical a couple of times while you were there, is that true?"

"A couple of times?" Paul replied incredulously. "Try almost every day! Sometimes twice a day!" Selas winced.

"To your knowledge were there any other cadets that visited the infirmary as often as your friend?"

"No, not a one."

"And why do you think that was?"

"Because he," Selas could envision Paul in his mind's eye pointing an angry finger at the Commander, "decided to use Selas as his own personal punching bag." Mama's distress on his behalf flared across the familial bond.

He listened to the shuffle of fabric as Prosecutor D'Nae began to pace again. "At any point during training did you think Cadet Selas wasn't cut out for Starfleet?"

"What?" his friend asked incredulously, "No way! I knew by the end of day one that he could hack it."

"And what specifically made you think that he could, as you say, 'hack it'?"

"The way he handled Frank—sorry, I mean Cadet Mason, ma'am. They were forced to spar together that first afternoon and Cadet Mason is like twice Selas' size. Selas got the better of him not once, not twice, but _three_ times…Commander Rourke only ended it when they both passed out. Frank fell first, of course."

"I see." The prosecutor paused, he believed it was in front of the defense table, then returned to her seat. "Thank you, Cadet. I have no further questions for you at this time."

Selas could practically hear Paul's teeth grinding in his head as Attorney Vasquez rose from her seat and approached him. "Cadet, you're new to Starfleet and how training works, correct?"

"Yes?"

The defense lawyer turned to face the room, showboating as she had for most of the afternoon. "So it's fair to say you're not familiar with _all_ Academy training methods and protocols, yes?"

Sa-mekh was familiar with them all and in the back of his mind Selas felt him bristle at the question. Sa-mekh knew of at least 13 regulations that Commander Rourke had violated in his treatment of him at camp and sufficient argument could be made that he had also broken an additional 4. "Yes," Paul replied, this time without hesitating.

Miss Vasquez turned to face the council. "But you and I both know that at camp it's a commanding officer's job to instruct cadets, make them ready for whatever they might encounter out in deep space—isn't that the point of summer training?" Her falsely sweet tone was beginning to make even Selas cringe.

Paul waited several seconds before speaking, breathing heavily to calm himself and stop from speaking out in anger. "I agree it's an officer's job to instruct his cadets, not to use rank as an excuse to try and beat the living hell out of someone for your own amusement."

The Commander's defensive strategy faltered momentarily, but after a few seconds pause Miss Vasquez rebounded. "How long were you and Cadet Selas at camp together?"

"For 42 days, ma'am, same as the rest of our class."

"Earlier you stated that you brought the Cadet to the infirmary—how many times was that?" Before he could even reply she commanded, "Computer, play back Cadet Adams testimony regarding the number of trips he made with Cadet Selas to Medical."

Prosecutor D'Nae's voice rang out. "I understand that you escorted him to Medical a couple of times while you were there, is that true?"

"A couple of times? Try almost every day! Sometimes twice a day!" Selas winced again, this time for different reasons as he sensed where the defense was going with this line of questioning.

"Did you escort him to Medical because he was blind and couldn't find the infirmary on his own?"

"No," Paul hotly retorted, "I helped him because he is my friend and he was too stubborn to help himself."

"So you were the one pushing for him to seek constant medical treatment?" she innocently asked. Selas willed his friend not to rise to the bait.

"Constant medical treatment?! You make it sound like I dragged him there for every little bump and bruise…"

"Well didn't you?" Miss Vasquez sounded very smug.

Paul exploded. "There were days when he was beaten so badly he could barely stand!" His friend whipped his head around toward the council. "The Commander practically tore his arm off once, not to mention…!"

"That's enough, Cadet," she warned. "You're not a medical professional; we'll leave that testimony to the doctor." Paul grumbled and shifted in his seat, clearly unhappy with the situation. "Back to my questions, now, if you hadn't suggested that Cadet Selas seek medical attention what would he have done?"

His friend shifted in his seat. "I don't know, probably gone back to the room and tried to treat himself, I guess."

Warning klaxons went off in Selas' head only he could not say anything to Paul. "Cadet Adams," Attorney Vasquez said, "What you're saying is that Cadet Selas would not have reported such a high volume of injuries without your direct involvement—do I have that right? And if that was the case then Commander Rourke wouldn't be under review if the cadet hadn't gone to Medical as often as he had."

"What?" Paul screeched. "Yes. I mean, no! I mean, he was just trying to…"

"That's enough, Cadet." Silence descended not just over the witness box but over the entire courtroom, save for the sound of Attorney Vasquez's heels on the floor. "The prosecution has nothing further to add, honored members of the council." Turning toward Paul before she re-took her seat she added, "Witness dismissed."

Paul walked off the stand, anger practically dripping off him, and the ruling council ended proceedings for the day. He didn't speak until they were out in the hallway. "I'm sorry, man, I'm so so sorry; I thought I was saying everything right but then she just tripped me up and I…"

"Paul." Selas stood outside the courtroom now, his friend by his side and his parents not too far away, waiting to speak with him. "Your testimony was truthful and you need not be ashamed of anything you said. The defense is merely doing their job and attempting to present the Commander in the best possible light."

Just then Defense Attorney Vasquez walked between them in the corridor, her over-strong rose perfume wafting in waves in her break. "Attempting?" she said.

It was fortunate his parents joined them when they did as he and Mama had to physically restrain Paul for his own good.

* * *

_** Daestrom Center, Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco,**_** 2287.290 0901 hours. **Selas was excused from his morning classes to participate in the trial and he now sat straight-laced in the witness stand, hoping his testimony would counteract that of his (well-meaning) friend. The defense had done one hell of a number on Paul and Selas felt it was incumbent upon him to rescue the prosecution.

Prosecutor D'Nae started the proceedings rather simply. "Cadet, please state your full name for the record."

"S'chn T'gai Selas Uchenna."

There was a pause in the courtroom; the clan name was strange to hear and all but impossible for most other species to pronounce. Prosecutor D'Nae seemed as stunned as the rest. "Thank you, Cadet. Your parents are Starfleet officers, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then I think it's fair to say you were born and raised within the 'Fleet, isn't that right?"

"Yes. My parents formerly served aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise._ I was born and raised on the ship until it's destruction, at which time my family returned to San Francisco where my parents took up teaching positions at the Academy."

"I see." Prosecutor D'Nae walked past him in thoughtful silence. She continued to question him but her attention was directed at the Council. "So you're very familiar with the Starfleet Mission Statement and all the protocols and regulations within our organization, are you not? More so than the average cadet?"

Selas turned toward the sound of her voice. "I do not presume to know what the average Starfleet cadet does or does not know pertaining to regulations, but I admit that I know every word of the Starfleet Mission Statement, it's policies and directives."

The Prosecutor walked past and drummed her fingers three times along the railing in front of the witness box. "Have you interacted with many other officers prior to the start of training, Cadet?"

"Yes."

"Did you know Commander Rourke—in any capacity—before the start of camp? Perhaps through your parents or at a Starfleet function?"

Selas shook his head. "No; I did not meet the Commander until I arrived in Soledad."

She walked away from him, facing the gallery as she paced. "In your previous dealings with Starfleet officers, did any of them physically assault you or verbally abuse you as Commander Rourke did?"

"No."

"Objection!" Attorney Vasquez cried out, the legs of her chair scraping loudly against the linoleum as she jumped up.

Admiral Cartwright leaned forward in his seat on the raised dais. "On what grounds?"

"Hearsay, Sir!"

He gave the motion a moments consideration, likely conferring with the other admirals on the council, before denying her request and allowing the prosecution to carry on. "Cadet Selas, I'd like to ask you another difficult question now. You knew that what Commander Rourke was doing to you was wrong but you waited until the end of training to report him. Why did you wait as long as you did?"

Selas clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap and took a deep breath, staring straight ahead. "I did not immediately report Commander Rourke's attacks on me because I surmised that there would be only two possible outcomes for my actions, neither of which would have worked in my favor."

"And what were those outcomes, Cadet?"

"I inferred that Command would take Commander Rourke's word over mine, given his superior rank and untarnished reputation, and that I would either be asked to leave Starfleet for making such an accusation against a superior officer or that I would remain at camp where the Commander's violence toward me would escalate for having drawn attention to the abuse."

"I see," she said. Stopping once more to face the gallery again she asked what finally prompted him to report the Commander.

"I had to report Commander Rourke because he endangered not only my life but the lives of 4 other cadets and 1 officer when he sabotaged the shuttle that was taking us to our survival training assignment. It was a reckless, dangerous maneuver that landed us all in the infirmary with serious, life-threatening injuries."

Before the prosecution could add anything further, Defense Attorney Vasquez jumped out of her chair, this time hard enough to send it clanging to the floor. "I'd like to remind the court there is _**no**_ hard proof connecting my client with having tampered with that shuttle or altered the assignment in any way," she said, her voice tight. "As of right now we only have the words of a cadet and a lieutenant claiming Commander Rourke's involvement and each of those men are pursuing their own agenda in making those claims."

Admiral Cartwright let out a soft huff of annoyance, seemingly reluctant to agree; but the letter of the law was clear and she was correct—neither Selas nor anyone else was able to find any direct evidence tying Commander Rourke to the sabotaged shuttle. "Acknowledged," the Admiral wearily replied. "The council will treat the Cadet's remarks on this point as speculative." There were a few quiet humphs of agreement and the prosecution carried on.

Prosecutor D'Nae only asked a few more questions before finishing and requesting a 15 minute recess which was readily granted. As Selas stepped down off the witness stand he sensed his mother waiting to approach, so he inquired of one of the council members as to the location of the nearest exit and wash room in order to avoid her. Following her instructions he hastened out a side door and moved swiftly down the hall, not stopping until the men's room door was shut behind him.

It was not that Selas did not appreciate his parents' support but he did not want to get distracted ahead of the defense's cross-examination. Mama would want to hold him, reassure him, encourage him and Sa-mekh would be nearby, silently echoing her sentiments. Right now, though, he could not bear any of those things. Instead, Selas walked to the nearest sink, set his cane and glasses aside, and repeatedly splashed cold water on his face.

"Brrrpphhh." He gripped the sides of the porcelain sink and shook his head like a dog and sending water droplets scattering. When he felt calmer he groped about for the towel dispenser until someone placed a towel in his hands. Selas started; he was so distracted when he entered that he had been unaware of anyone else in the room. "Who's there?" he asked, a slight nervous edge to his voice; before he received a reply two men entered and the third person slipped out. Had it been Commander Rourke? Selas shuddered; he did not fear the man but that did not mean he found it pleasant to be in his company. Wiping his face and retrieving his glasses and cane he returned to the court room, shaken yet determined.

* * *

Court had been called back to order and Selas sat in the box, hands folded on his lap, waiting for Defense Attorney Vasquez to begin. The room was remarkably quiet and he strained his hearing listening for the familiar staccato of the attorney's heels on the tile.

"Cadet." His head whipped sharply to the left where she stood before the witness stand. Selas was surprised; he had not even heard her approach. It took him a moments reflection to realize that she wore ballet flats instead of her usual three inch heels, possibly in a move to disorient him. Choosing not to rise to the bait Selas took a steadying breath and waited for Attorney Vasquez to ask him an actual question. "I understand that there are numerous classifications for describing blindness; could you please tell the court where you fall in that spectrum?"

"Of course," he replied. "As I cannot distinguish form or light my optometrists have categorized me as having no light perception."

"Meaning you can't see at all?" She moved again, circling the stand, and now that he knew what to listen for Selas followed her movements.

"That is correct."

Attorney Vasquez stopped. "So if I were to have a phaser trained on you right now you wouldn't know it?"

"You do not currently have a phaser trained on my person," he confidently said.

"How can you be so sure?"

Selas gestured around her to the rest of the room. "I sense your presence standing in front of me as I have for the last 1.68 minutes yet you have not altered position sufficiently to indicate that you have drawn a phaser; also, excluding yourself and your client there are currently 36 highly trained Starfleet officers present in this room—37 if you include the guard in the back who just excused himself to answer his personal communicator. Had you had a weapon trained on me inside this courtroom no doubt all of them would have reacted once you produced it." To add insult to injury, he added, "I may not have the power of sight but I am able to compensate by relying heavily on my other senses, as you have just seen, Miss Vasquez."

"Yes." Although she attempted to disguise her dismay, Selas was familiar enough with the defense attorney's speech patterns to know how dejected she was by his reply. Returning to her table she briefly consulted one of her PADDs before facing him again.

"Cadet, please tell the court who your parents are."

"My mother is Commander Nyota Uhura and my sa-…" he stopped short, switching to the Standard form of address instead of the Vulcan one. "My father is Commander Spock."

Attorney Vasquez looked out over the gallery. "I think we can all agree that Commanders Spock and Uhura are two of the most well known officers in the 'Fleet. Why, they're Federation heroes!" Selas suppressed the urge to sigh and roll his eyes at her ridiculous, high-pitched squeal.

Prosecutor D'Nae addressed the council. "I'm sorry, but is there a question in all of this grandstanding?"

The defense wheeled back around before the council could intervene. "Cadet Selas, earlier you also stated that because of your parents' positions you knew a great number of Starfleet officers before the start of your enlistment. Was Admiral Pike one of those officers?"

Selas was on his guard. "Yes."

"And how well do you know the Admiral?"

"Admiral Pike was my father's mentor during his time at the Academy; he and my mother briefly served under him when he was captain of the _Enterprise_ during the Battle for Vulcan. He is also a family friend."

"A _close_ family friend, from what I understand," she said smugly. "Members of the council, I'd like you to imagine that you're on the admissions board here at the Academy. We have a cadet candidate with quite the pedigree seeking entry into Starfleet and he also has the unwavering support of one of our most respected officers. Now Starfleet is an organization that does not discriminate but isn't it a liability to admit a cadet into our ranks who cannot see purely on the basis of nepotism?"

"OBJECTION!" Prosecutor D'Nae shouted. "Admiral Cartwright, surely you…"

The Admiral repeatedly banged the gavel, calling the room to order. When it quieted he said, "I do, Miss D'Nae, so you may please take your seat. Miss Vasquez, I speak for the entire ruling council when I say we've had it up to here with your antics this morning, so unless you have any _reasonable_ questions you wish to put to the witness I suggest you wrap this up."

"Understood, Admiral." But Selas knew she was not sorry for her antics at all. Attorney Vasquez asked him a few more questions—about the number of visits he made to the infirmary, about the food tampering and the tripping—and after making a pointed show of the number of times Commander Rourke visited Medical (11) after sparring with him, she dismissed Selas from the stand. A one hour recess for lunch was called before Doctor Dietrich was to take the stand.

Selas strode up the center aisle toward the back exit until he felt Mama's hand catch his arm. She wanted to ask him how he was feeling but thought better of it, instead giving it a gentle squeeze before letting him on his way. Selas was not prepared to discuss his experience on the stand just yet but would be sure and contact his parents later. Walking out of the room he took two steps from the door before Paul fell into step beside him.

"Hey."

"Hello."

"I've been waiting for you. Class got out half an hour ago…I wasn't sure if I missed your or not," Paul said.

"You did not miss me." They walked forward down the hall in silence.

"You want to talk about it?" his friend finally asked.

"No, thank you."

Paul shrugged. "Alright." They turned left down the corridor. "You want to go get some lunch then?"

Selas smiled. Some things would never change. "Yes."

"Excuse me, Cadet Selas?"

They immediately stopped and turned around at the summons. The man's voice was unfamiliar to Selas. He possessed a heavy accent that Selas did not recognize and spoke as if his tongue were too large for his mouth. "Yes?"

"My name is Alex, Alex Fleischer," he declared as he approached. "I just wanted to thank you for standing up and speaking out today." Selas nodded. "You see, I…" he hesitated, clearing his throat, "I was a cadet once too, about 11 years ago, and I was also harassed by Commander Rourke.

"I'm deaf—I only have about 15% hearing in my right ear. Commander Rourke made my life miserable and I quit after 18 days. At the time I thought his behavior was typical Starfleet but now…" he sighed, "Well let's just say I know better now. I'm sorry you had to go through everything you did. Perhaps if I'd known then what he was doing I could've..."

"Mr. Fleischer." The man immediately stopped talking. "You have nothing to apologize for. I was unaware that the Commander had previously mistreated other cadets until the conclusion of camp; prior to that I was willing to let the abuse continue because I thought no one would believe me, and it was not until my friends became directly involved that I was spurred to act. You did nothing wrong."

The man reached out and took Selas' hand in both of his; Mr. Fleischer's overwhelming shame and gratitude simultaneously seeped across the bond. "Thank you," he said, still pumping Selas' arm hard. "Thank you."

He gently disentangled himself, unable to handle the other man's emotions while battling his own wildly raging ones. "You are most welcome."

* * *

His parents attended the trial every single day but Selas did not set foot in the courtroom again. He stayed away because he had classes to attend but also because he simply refused to give the Commander anymore of his time or attention. The council moved swiftly after the final statements were read and after a decorated career spanning 33 years Commander Bradley Rourke was dishonorably discharged and cast out of Starfleet. No one saw or heard from him ever again.

* * *

**A/N:** If anybody's interested, I know I don't describe her in any detail but in my mind I pictured Prosecutor D'Nae as the Diva Plavalaguna from the movie "The Fifth Element". Yeah, my mind works in mysterious ways.


	12. Chapter 12

**One Step Forward and Two Steps Back**

_** Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2287.304, 1147 hours.** The cadets around him began collecting their belongings as Selas jotted down a few last minute notes on his PADD.

"Are you almost done?" Jeffrey whispered.

Selas slowly relinquished his hold on Jeffrey's arm, restoring his sight. He typed in a few more commands then gathered up his things. "Yes," he replied, "We are finished."

Beside him he heard the seat shift as Jeffrey stretched out like a cat. "Good because I am _hungry_!"

"You say that every Tuesday, and I remind you every Monday afternoon that my Tuesday morning schedule is full and that you should eat breakfast before reporting for duty, but it is to no avail," he teased his friend good naturedly. Within a week of working with one another they had fallen into an easy rapport, just as he and Paul had at camp.

"Yeah yeah…"

"Hey guys," Markus cried out, catching up to them as they exited the lecture hall. "You headed to the Mess?"

"You bet your ass we are!"

Selas smirked, one eyebrow raised. "I am required by law to feed my 'seeing eye guy' approximately once every four hours, so in answer to your question yes, we are headed to the Mess." Jeffrey doubled over with laughter as they made their way down the building steps.

"You two are weird." They walked toward the Mess and collected their food before looking for an available table. "I think I see Missy and Becca in the back," Markus informed them. With a gentle nudge on Selas' shoulder he pointed him in the right direction. "Come on."

The threesome reached the table without incident and Selas was just about to set his tray down when Rebecca cried out. "No! Not there!" He hastily withdrew his tray and listened to her gather up three or four PADDs from the table surface.

"Gettin' a jump on midterms there, Becs?" Jeffrey asked.

She and Missy both let out little incredulous hmphs. "A jump?! Midterms are only a week away!" Selas heard the scrape of a fork on a plate. "Honestly," Rebecca added, "I don't know how you two can be so calm…"

"It's called procrastination," came Markus' quick retort, followed by a laugh. "I study best under pressure." One of the girls must have shot him a dirty look for he added, "What? It's true!"

"And you, Selas?" Missy asked. "What's your secret?"

"I have studied since the start of the semester and am confident in the knowledge that I have retained; and with Jeffrey to assist me I do not foresee any problems in my mid-semester examinations." Under her breath he heard his friend curse his Vulcan memory. Unable to resist teasing her Selas asked, "What was that, Rebecca?"

"Oh nothing, nothing." She bit down hard on her apple and resumed reading.

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2287.304, 1322 hours. **The doors to Pike's office closed and he sank back in his chair and let out a groan. First camp, then the trial and now this…the poor kid just _could not_ catch a break. After giving himself a minute to regain his composure he punched the intercom button. "Pat?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Could you please schedule an appointment for me with Cadet Selas for tomorrow morning? The sooner the better."

"Right away, Admiral."

Sometimes Chris really, _really_ hated his job.

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2287.305, 0730 hours.** He rushed through breakfast to get to his appointment, arriving at Admiral Pike's office before Mrs. Munn was even at her post. Pointing his laser cane at the door he discovered it open and stepped forward, knocking lightly on the door frame. "Admiral?"

"Come on in, Selas." He sounded tired. Selas stepped forward and listened as the Admiral set his work aside. "Have a seat." He pulled out the chair and did as he was bid. The Admiral wheeled himself over toward the wall. "You are not having a good first semester, kid." He activated the replicator. "Coffee?"

Selas shook his head. "No thank you." What did he mean he was 'not having a good first semester'? His grades were good, the trial was over, he was actively involved in campus life…

The Admiral returned behind his desk, coffee in hand. "I had a cadet come see me yesterday afternoon," he said casually. "He said he had some concerns."

Who was this cadet with concerns, and how did it involve him? "Concerns, Sir?"

"Yes. Seems he overheard you and your friends at lunch yesterday talking about midterms. This cadet seems to be working under the apprehension that you intend to use Ensign Pullman to cheat on your exams."

Selas was stunned. "Admiral I would never… Ensign Pullman acts as my eyes, Sir; he does not think for me, he does not make decisions for me, he…"

"Easy there, Son." The Admiral reached out across the desk and pat him on the arm. "I'm on your side; after all, I'm the one that put you in touch with Jeff in the first place, remember?"

He relaxed in his seat…somewhat. "Yes, Sir. Of course."

Admiral Pike sighed and set his coffee aside, rubbing at his temple. "May we speak…_unofficially_, for a moment?"

"Please."

"This is a load of horse shit. The cadet making the accusation is a year ahead of you and doesn't even know you, but he's too by-the-book to let anything remotely resembling cheating go." Somewhat wistfully he added, "Almost reminds me of a certain, young, half-Vulcan I used to know back in the day. Anyhow, the point is you know you don't cheat, _I_ know you don't cheat, your friends and professors know you don't cheat…but we have to remember that you're the first blind touch telepath ever to be admitted to the Academy. We've already seen that there are people out there doing their damnest to discredit you, so when issues like this come up we have no choice but to address them."

This was disheartening news to be sure and he was feeling very dejected. The Admiral must have read the expression on his face. "Selas," he said solemnly, leaning forward in his chair again, "You have _every_ right to be here." Selas nodded and the Admiral sat back and took another sip of coffee. "Alright, well I'm going to sort this out so you just sit tight and try not to let it bother you. We'll resolve this to everyone's satisfaction, you'll see."

"Yes, Admiral. Thank you." Selas exited the room and headed down the hall to his first class of the day, his head still reeling from the news. He was being accused of cheating—no, correction, he was being _preemptively_ accused of cheating. As he emerged out onto the quad Selas ground his teeth together. He knew that life was unfair but that lesson had never been hammered home with quite so much force until he entered the Academy.

Perhaps he was not cut out for a life in Starfleet after all.

* * *

**1715 hours.** Selas spent the rest of the day in a sour mood, talking very little and avoiding company when he could. When his classes were through he skipped out on dinner and went back to his dorm room to mope instead. Paul was already there asleep on his bed; his friend had been keeping odd hours lately, but he did not think much about it just now. Quietly slipping off his shoes so as not to disturb him, Selas sat on the bed with his back to the wall and his PADD in his hands, popping in earbuds to drown out all other sound.

He put on some music and absently checked his messages—there was not much there that was new. A blanket invitation to a campus party, warnings about petty crime occurring in the neighborhood just off grounds, a project reminder sent to the class from his Introduction to Xenoanthropology professor…

…and a letter from Se'tak.

Hearing his sa-kai's name spoken aloud made him smile. Se'tak was currently serving with the Federation Peace Corps and he had not heard from him in 4.4 months. Given the distance and the remote nature of the locations he visited Se'tak's communications home were infrequent at best. Opening the missive he discovered it was actually a voice recorded message and so Selas quickly turned off his music to listen.

"Hey, pi'sa-kai! Guess who?" There was a brief pause—Se'tak did not honestly expect an answer, did he? "Yeah, yeah, old joke, I know. So how're you doing at the Academy? We haven't really been able to talk since before you went to training." In spite of himself Selas grimaced at the remembrance of camp.

"Well I'm sure you're settling in and doing well and all that—you are you after all. What am I up to, you ask? Well we just landed on Kimti, a Roylan colony planet, 4 days ago. There was a pretty bad mudslide here about 2 weeks ago that took out a major village. We're here to help re-build." Se'tak sighed and Selas sensed that there was more to this mission than a simple re-building effort and that it was negatively affecting his sa-kai; however, he did not go into further detail.

"Yeah. At least it's better than the last place we were at; let me tell you, being a vegetarian on a water planet _sucks_. I ate so much kelp-like stuff I thought I was going to turn green and if I never see or smell another fish again I'll die happy." Selas listened close to the ambient noise just then—it sounded as though Se'tak were stepping through a forest of some kind with all manner of underbrush breaking under his feet. Presently he emerged in a clearing and childish cries rang out. "Hey, there you guys are! Selas, these are some of my little friends from the village."

After a quick aside to his friends the recording device was pulled from his hands. "Na-dija-ta-hey, Romo ante Ti-ja-lo!" Selas attempted a quick translation in his head—_Hello, Man with…what? _While his sa-kai tried to re-secure the recorder the children's cries increased as they talked over one another vying for Se'tak's attention and Selas, not being fluent in Roylan, could not distinguish what was said. His sa-kai soon regained control of the device. "Yeah, The Pointy Eared Man, that's what the little kids call me. They're really great. Life's been tough since the landslide—they lost a lot—and we're all doing what we can to keep their spirits up; when I'm not working all the kids want to do is ride around on my shoulders and touch my ears. Don't tell Sa-mekh about that last part though, ok?"

_Of course, _he replied, smiling to himself at the thought. Their sa-mekh would not be amused if he knew what Se'tak was up to. With a few quick words from Se'tak the kids dispersed, though he could still hear them playing amongst themselves in the background. "Hey, listen, I got a letter from Mama a few days ago; she said you were having a rough time of things. She didn't go into any details or anything but it's obvious she's worried about you. I just want to know if you're really alright…and don't worry, if push comes to shove I've got your back."

Selas paused the recording and leaned back against the wall. His sa-kai had always been a great source of support for him as they were growing up, and even though lightyears separated them now he still appreciated Se'tak's encouragement. He started up the recording again. "Uh oh…Selas, I've got to go—the natives are getting restless. Literally." In the background he heard the children approach; the only word he could make out over the din was 'play'. All of a sudden a group of them bowled him over and he heard Se'tak laughing and rolling around on the ground. "Ok, ok, I'm coming! Hang in there, pi'sa-kai! Talk to you later!" Before the recording completely cut out he heard Se'tak add, "I'm going to get you guys for that! Come here! Rarrr!" and he chased after the children who all squealed with delight and ran off.

He turned off the recording, still smiling himself, and thought back upon his current situation at the Academy. Se'tak's words helped give him some perspective and he knew that this small scandal would also pass.

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2287.311, 0900 hours.** Selas took his first midterm exam—ironically on interspecies ethics—alone in a small classroom in the Tucker Engineering building. Admiral Pike and Selas' professors decided it was best to create a program whereby he could take his exams orally. Jeffrey was also tasked with taking the same exams in a separate room to see if they received comparable scores.

When the tests were graded Selas received a 97 out of 100 while Jeffrey received a 78. Selas questioned his score and upon further review it was discovered that there had been a glitch in the programming whereby 3 of his answers were transposed—an error which would not have occurred if he had been allowed to view the test on his PADD, same as his colleagues.

After that Selas was never accused of cheating ever again.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** This chapter is just a bit of exposition to help set up future events. I'm not 100% pleased with it but I've worked and re-worked it to the best of my ability. Sorry if I disappoint but Selas' life can't be action-packed 24/7!

* * *

**Thanksgiving**

_** 150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco,**_** 2287.322, 2030 hours.** It was a typical Thursday evening. Selas had arrived 2.5 hours earlier for dinner with his parents, carrying a bag of dirty laundry over his shoulder. The meal concluded, he proceeded to the laundry room while Mama placed the dishes in the dishwasher before retreating to the living room to watch her nightly news program; Sa-mekh went to the office to place some calls.

"Sweetie?" Mama called out from down the hall.

Selas was folding the last of his shirts when Sa-mekh entered the kitchen for a drink, Mama still awaiting a response. "I believe your mother is calling for you, sa-fu."

He set aside his clothes and went to her. "Yes?"

"I was thinking…" Sensing a long conversation he sat down in the armchair, Sa-mekh entering the room behind him and taking a seat beside Mama on the couch. Selas sensed his sa-mekh's amusement and trepidation in equal measure and he smirked; Mama sensed it as well. "Boys…" she warned. "Selas, what do you think about having your friends over for Thanksgiving next week? Assuming they don't already have other plans."

"Mama?" They had never specifically honored the North American Thanksgiving tradition. As a family they observed it in their own way, spending the day engaged in their own pursuits, with Mama and Sa-mekh preparing a special end-day meal as a nod toward the original holiday. If anything they captured the spirit of the day without replicating the exact customs.

"What? I think it's a great idea! I remember how lonely it used to get staying on campus while everyone else went home, and I'm sure your friends would appreciate a home-cooked meal. It'll be fun!"

He turned to his sa-mekh, awaiting his input. "I believe such a gathering would be advantageous for both your mother and I and for your friends. It would provide us with the opportunity to get to know them in a less formal setting than at the Academy and, as your mother previously stated, they would benefit from having consumed a meal that was not mass produced or replicated."

Mama's excitement was mounting. "You could even ask them if they have any dishes they want to contribute—you know, foods from home that they miss. I'm sure we can accommodate them and I like to try new things as much as the next person."

Selas was warming to the idea. "If you are certain that it would not be too much trouble…"

"It won't be."

"Then I will extend an invitation to my friends."

* * *

Paul was the first to be invited. After Selas proposed the idea his friend enthusiastically accepted. "Free food? I'm there!"

Rebecca was next, though he suspected that she had plans to return to Georgia. Surprisingly, she did not. "Jo-Jo, Steve and the kids are spending the day with Steve's family in Connecticut, and Mom and Dad are going to Mars to see Tabby at school. I was going to go with them, but with all my work here it just seemed like a better idea to stay."

Selas smiled. "Then I hope that you will consider joining us on Thursday. Emilia is also invited, as is Alexander." Cadet Alexander Vaughn was a Command track cadet a year ahead of them who Rebecca had begun seeing regularly as of one month ago.

"Em and I'll be there," she said, "But I think Alex has other plans." She scooped up her bag and rose from the table. "Thanks for the invite though!"

Markus was unable to join them, as was Alexander, but Jamas, Jeffrey and Melissa all declared that they would come, and so it was decided that they would meet at the house at 1230 hours on Thanksgiving day.

* * *

_**150 Greenleaf Street, San Francisco,**_** 2287.329, 1145 hours. **Mama flitted about the kitchen, Sa-mekh standing out of the line of fire waiting to assist, while he continued to shuck corn from his seat at the kitchen table. Their guests would be arriving in 44.7 minutes and Mama was beginning to fret. She had been cooking since 0700.

"Spock, will you stir that stew a little bit more?"

"Yes, k'diwa." Selas heard him lift the lid off the pot, the fishy odor quickly filling up the room. He resisted the urge to plug his own nose.

"I just don't know," Mama muttered to herself as she came up alongside Sa-mekh. "It doesn't look cooked."

"I believe that is how the Andorians prefer it; indeed, if you review the picture accompanying the recipe for Snow Trout Stew you will see that your dish and the image are of identical color and consistency." With that said Sa-mekh hurried to cover the pot, the smell affecting him as well.

"Alright, if you say so. Selas, how're you coming along over there?"

He reached out beside him to check the pile; there was one more ear he had to remove from it's husk before he could slice it off the cob. "I am making good progress. You shall have your corn for the Githeri in approximately 5.8 minutes."

"Thank you." She began dashing around the room again, repeating a list of ingredients to herself and removing various dishes from the cupboards. Selas was beginning to wonder if she did not regret offering to host the dinner.

* * *

**1227 hours. **When she was through with him in the kitchen she sent him to the foyer to await their guests. He heard them long before they rang the chime; then again, they were not exactly quiet.

"Does anybody else feel weird?" Melissa asked as they walked up the drive.

"Weird?" Rebecca repeated. "Why?"

"Because we're about to sit down to dinner with Commanders Spock and Uhura," Jamas replied, "In their _house_."

"I'm a little nervous," Emilia added, letting out a loud exhale.

Rebecca stopped them all on the front stoop. "You guys, you're being ridiculous. They're totally normal."

Before anything more could be said Selas opened the door for his guests. "Hello everyone."

Melissa let out a little squeak of surprise. "How'd you know we were here?"

Paul just laughed at her and stepped inside. "Missy, have you not seen his ears?"

"Oh good, you all made it," Mama exclaimed as she came down the hall.

"Hey, Aunty Ny!" Rebecca reached over for a hug while the rest of them shed their coats. "Hi, Uncle Spock."

"Greetings, Rebecca."

He smiled at their easy greeting and wished the rest of his friends would relax. As she leaned over to give Selas a hug he detected the scent of warm apples and pastry coming from a large cloth bag on Rebecca's arm which she quickly extended to his mother. "Two, world famous, McCoy Apple Cobblers, sans cinnamon."

Mama laughed and took the pies. "Thank you, Becca. That's very sweet of you." She looked around to the others idling around the doorway. "Come in, come in, all of you, you must be freezing." She began guiding them toward the living room where they took various seats. Selas settled himself down in a chair in the corner and waited for someone to speak. A timer went off in the kitchen and Mama went to check on the food.

"Commander, thank you for having us over," Jamas said.

"Yes," Melissa echoed. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you."

"It's a really nice example of late-19th/early-20th century Victorian architecture. I see you've kept with the original color scheme in the exterior," Emilia said, surprising them all.

"Yes," Sa-mekh replied. "My father also restored the decorative moldings that were original to the house shortly after purchasing the property in 2232."

"Really?" Emilia rose from her seat and moved toward the doorway, carefully examining the walls. He heard her run her hands along the wood. "He did a really great job."

"I will be sure and pass along your compliments."

Just then Mama returned with a tray of drinks in her hands which she set down on the coffee table. "Sounds like you're very knowledgeable about these types of things."

She shrugged. "I guess. My Mom's an architect so I just sort of picked it up from her."

"I didn't know that!" Melissa cried out. "What else haven't you told us?"

Emilia just shrugged again. Selas had not known that about her family either—than again she was a naturally shy and quiet person.

"I have a younger brother named Ralph. He's 8."

Melissa scoffed again while Jamas expressed his own disbelief; meanwhile, Rebecca laughed. "You guys don't know this stuff because you don't ask the right questions."

Selas lifted a glass of water off the tray. "Touché, Rebecca." The conversation stalled again.

"Ok, here's a question I've been dying to ask since the first day of camp," Melissa asked all of a sudden. "If you two have been friends for so long…"

"Since birth," Selas remarked.

"Since birth, then how come you never call her Becca or Becky or Becs?"

Rebecca shuddered. "Ew, I hate the name Becky…"

Melissa persisted. "Why is it always…" here she did her best imitation of him, "_Rebecca_." Jamas laughed.

"I noticed that too," Emilia chimed in. "You do the same thing with Missy and Jeff. Why is that?"

He gave the idea careful consideration for a moment, taking a sip of water before replying. "I believe that when I was younger I spoke this way in unconscious imitation of my sa-mekh; as I grew older it simply became natural for me to call everyone by their given name."

"So you could do it if you wanted to?" Melissa asked.

He nodded. "Yes; however, I simply do not want to."

"Fair enough."

The door chime rang and Selas rose to answer it. "That must be Jeffrey."

The scent of rosemary, cheese and potatoes barreled over him as soon as he opened the door. "Hey, sorry I'm late." He lifted the dish in his hands higher. "These took a little longer than I thought." Jeffrey pressed the dish into Selas' hands and walked into the living room. "Hi everybody! Commanders," Selas listened as Mama and Sa-mekh both rose from their seats, "I'm Ensign Pullman, I've been working with Selas this semester. It's nice to finally meet you both. Thanks for inviting me."

He heard Mama heartily shake his hand. "Of course, Jeff, we've heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you too." Selas stood in the doorway still holding the tray and Mama took a good whiff. "Mmm, what smells so good?"

"Pullman Potatoes, ma'am—they're the reason why I'm late. Can't tell you anything more though; it's a secret family recipe and if it gets out my Nana will have my hide."

She laughed. "No kidding! Well alright then. Selas, why don't you go put that down in the kitchen? I'll be there in a minute to check on everything else."

"Yes, Mama."

As he walked down the hall his parents began inquiring after his friends' courses of study. They let loose a collective groan and he chuckled.

* * *

Halfway through the appetizers his parents had gotten everyone to agree to dispense with titles which helped ease any remaining awkwardness. Now they all sat gathered at the dining room table enjoying their meal, the room abuzz in conversation. Silverware scraped the sides of plates as everyone remarked upon the taste and variety of dishes.

There were two turkeys—one real, one consisting of tofu—made in honor of the occasion. As to the side dishes there was Mama's famous Githeri and Ko-mekh-il's t'mirak in addition to the biscuits Emilia suggested, the shaved Brussels sprouts salad from Paul and the Pullman Potatoes from Jeffrey. Melissa had brought a bottle of wine from her family's vineyard as a hostess gift for his parents.

But the piece de resistance—had Mama not already won Jamas over with her flawless Andorian accent—was the Snow Trout stew. After offering the stew to the rest of the table (all of whom politely and swiftly declined) everyone watched intently as Jamas took a bite. Selas listened close as first one small spoonful then another crossed his lips. "Ms. Uhura," Jamas exclaimed after the third bite, "This is by far the best Snow Trout I've ever tasted. My own mother couldn't compete!"

The fact that he enjoyed it so much (and that he gratefully accepted all the leftover stew to bring back with him to the Academy) pleased Mama immensely. Selas was less certain that Markus would be as pleased with her cooking upon his return to the dorm.

* * *

** 0711 hours. **The cobbler was gone and after numerous cups of coffee and tea were drunk (he was so engrossed in the conversation he lost count how many had been consumed) his friends departed for the Academy; all save for Rebecca, who was currently assisting Mama in collecting all the wayward dishes. Selas stood beside Sa-mekh at the sink drying the plate ware as it was handed to him and placing it all on the counter.

"You have a most interesting group of friends," Sa-mekh said, carefully passing him another dish.

"Indeed."

"You are most fortunate in this regard."

Selas gave him a small smile. "I agree."

"I do have one question however. Why did you not inform your mother and I that Emilia was a Betazoid?"

One eyebrow flew up. "She is?"

"Yes," Sa-mekh coolly replied. "I see she has not informed you of this herself."

"No."

Mama and Rebecca entered the kitchen, depositing more dirty dishware beside Sa-mekh. "She doesn't like to talk about it," Rebecca informed them both as she set her load down. "And she's only half-Betazoid on her father's side. Her parents are divorced. How'd you know?"

"Much like myself, as I have been informed on numerous occasions, her eyes gave way to her dual heritage. They were too dark to be naturally occurring in a human therefore I arrived at the conclusion that she was a Betazoid."

"She's a perfectly lovely girl," Mama chimed in. "It's a shame she's so shy."

Selas listened to Rebecca move beside him and collect some of the clean mugs and silverware. "I'm doing my best to break her out of her shell a little bit. She's getting better."

Mama also sidled up beside him. "Well you're doing a wonderful job, dear, so keep it up. Oh, those mugs go over there in that cabinet, top shelf."

The four of them worked in tandem in the kitchen until the clean up was complete. Rebecca thanked his parents again for hosting a lovely dinner and Selas followed her out into the hall as she collected her coat. "You're coming back to the Academy, aren't you?" she asked as he retrieved his thick winter coat from the hall tree.

"No, I will be returning tomorrow; however, I thought you might appreciate an escort to the bus stop."

"I do, thanks." As they stepped out the front door she slipped his arm through his and set off down the front walk. "It really was great of your folks to do this," she said as they turned onto the sidewalk. "It was just nice to get away from the Academy, relax all the restrictions…"

"…and not have our lives governed by Starfleet for a few hours," he concluded for her.

Rebecca barked out a laugh. "Yes! Exactly."

The wind picked up and she leaned casually into his side. "Rebecca…"

"Yes?"

"I hope that you know you are most welcome in our home at any time without invitation."

She pulled away a little as they neared the bus stop. "Oh. Thanks. I appreciate that." Selas nodded and waited with her under the small shelter as the hoverbus rounded the bend. "Thanks again for everything. See ya tomorrow!"

"Good night." He waited until the transport was well on it's way down the street before turning homeward once more.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** This is a thank you to all my AMAZING readers! I got some really thoughtful reviews for my last chapter and they really made my day so I thought I'd share the love. Enjoy!

* * *

**Course Correction - Part I**

The end of his first semester at Starfleet Academy came and went with little fanfare. There were, of course, the usual end year festivities in San Francisco that Selas and his friends attended in amidst studying for their final exams; ice skating in the park by the Bay, the San Francisco Symphony holiday concert, the Academy End of Year Ball. Before they went their separate ways Melissa even managed to organize a Secret Santa party that proved to be a big hit.

Eventually December gave way to January and 3.98 weeks after they left the cadets reconvened on the Starfleet campus for a new term. Selas could not be more eager to start his studies; the more time he spent with his xenoanthropology professors the more he became convinced that he had chosen the right field. Others of his acquaintance, he soon discovered, were not so certain as to their chosen career track.

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, **_**2288.63, 1615 hours. **Rebecca had contacted him on his personal communicator the instant his class was over. While not in a panic she appeared to be in great personal distress and he hastened to meet her in the student lounge on her floor of the dormitory to alleviate her suffering. He suspected Cadet Thomas Travers, her current beau (Alexander Vaughn had been dismissed prior to the start of winter break), was to blame.

Selas emerged from the stairwell waving his laser cane back and forth. The floor was unusually quiet due to an imposed 'silent time' rule in the week before midterm exams. He entered the lounge and Rebecca sprang up from her seat and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her face was wet.

He pulled her back. "Are you unwell? Has Thomas hurt you?"

"What?" She let out a mirthless chuckle and wiped at her cheeks. "No, it's not Tom, we're fine, it's just," she picked up a PADD she had been perusing and let it fall with a clatter onto the coffee table alongside numerous others, "I'm sorry, I've been studying so much and I'm just feeling so overwhelmed—I didn't know who else to call!"

Selas rubbed her back soothingly. "I am happy to be of service, Rebecca, and will assist you in any way that I can."

"Really?"

He furrowed his brow—they were very close friends, so why did his offer surprise her? "Of course."

Rebecca picked up another PADD, her sniffles subsiding. "It's my xeno-A&P II midterm," she admitted.

"Let me guess," he said, "You are having difficulty with Vulcan anatomy and physiology."

She let out a huff of air and he pictured her sad little smirk. "That obvious, huh?"

"Well I doubt you would have contacted me if you were having trouble reviewing your Andorian anatomy and physiology."

"True. If that were the case then I would've called Markus," she sarcastically replied. Rebecca led him over to the lumpy, common room sofa and they both sat down. "I think if I just have a live model to visualize where everything goes it'll help me remember it better. Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

She let out another sigh, steadying her fraying nerves. "Ok." Rebecca rose from the sofa and Selas sank down further into the worn cushions. "If you wouldn't mind just lying down here…"

He did as he was bid despite the minor discomfort and even went so far as to remove his boots in case she needed access to his feet. Before beginning he retrieved a PADD of his own from his bag. "Will it interfere with your studies if I engage in my own?"

"Nope, go right ahead." Selas ran his fingers over the Braille lettering. "What are you reading?"

"I am reviewing chapter 6 of my Origins of Humanoid Species textbook."

"Sounds interesting," she replied in all seriousness. Selas agreed and went back to his work.

He was barely a paragraph in when Rebecca finally began her studies in earnest and pressed her hand along his right side where his heart should be. Despite wanting to ease her anxiety Selas felt compelled to correct her. He gingerly took her by the wrist and guided her hand 4.88 centimeters below her current location. "This is the location of my heart."

"But the book says…"

"If I were full-Vulcan then you would be correct; however, my liver is slightly more enlarged than a Vulcan liver and therefore my heart is located here."

"Oh."

He could hear the disappointment in her tone and immediately dropped her wrist. "Forgive me, I did not mean to interfere."

"No, no, it's ok, I need the help." She placed her fingers on his shirt in their previous location and pressed down, feeling the organs out. "So your liver is larger than normal?"

"For a Vulcan, yes, my liver is larger, but not for a Human—in fact I have been informed that it is comparatively small."

"Oh." Rebecca returned to her studies and Selas picked up his PADD again. Her hands moved upward, feeling out his first rib, and moving steadily down to the thirteenth before groping blindly about. "I don't understand…"

He set aside his PADD. "What is the matter?"

"I can't find your 14th rib."

"That is because I do not possess one."

"What?! But it says right here…"

"Rebecca," Selas reminded her again, "I am not full-Vulcan."

Dejected, she sat down on the edge of the cushion near his thighs. "This is never going to work, is it?" she asked, sounding as if on the cusp of a fresh round of tears.

"The differences in my anatomy are not so numerous as to discourage you from continuing your st—…"

"No, not that, this!" He sensed her gesturing out before her. Selas slowly sat up. "It's so damn hard! I'm barely passing my medical classes and I study all the time! I hate it!" Rebecca began bashing the PADD against her knees. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate—"

Selas reached out and caught the device in his hand before she could injure herself further. As he brought his legs out from behind her so he could sit alongside her she began to vent her frustration in great heaving sobs and he pulled her to his shoulder. "I am not helping much, am I?" he asked as he rubbed her arm. "I apologize, but do not despair. You will master this material." After 5.64 minutes she grew calmer, her tears subsiding, and he suspected she might be more receptive to what he had to say. "May I make a personal query?"

"Of course."

"If you are so unhappy in your current course of study than why do you not pursue an alternate career track?"

Rebecca sat up with a gasp. "What?!" She vigorously shook her head. "No, I couldn't! There's no way!"

"Why not?"

"You know why, Selas," she pointedly remarked.

He furrowed his brow. "No, I do not. Your reasoning at the moment escapes me."

"'We McCoys, we're healers," Rebecca said in imitation of her father. "Becoming a nurse was one of the few ways me and my mom could get him on-board with the whole idea of me joining Starfleet, and if I quit the Medical track now they'll both be so disappointed!"

Selas took several deep breaths while considering her point. He recalled his own mother's doubts when he mentioned applying to Starfleet and how much her disbelief wounded him—it would likely be no different with Rebecca. "Perhaps your parents will be saddened for a time by your decision," he conceded. "But Rebecca, you must remember that they have already had their own careers in Starfleet; they cannot expect you to follow in their footsteps, especially when it makes you so miserable. Once they understand that I am certain that they will respect your choice."

She paused, shifting beside him, then said, "You're certain, huh?"

He sensed her smirk and smiled back. "Indeed. I estimate that…" Selas stopped as he felt her hold up a hand before his face.

"Please no, no statistics," she said with a small laugh, halting his calculations. Beside him Rebecca began to relax a bit more yet he could tell that she remained unconvinced. "I don't know…"

"You need not decide anything right now."

She heaved a great sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. "Alright." 8.21 minutes passed and in that time Selas listened to her breathing even out and her heart cease to race.

* * *

**1508 hours.** Emilia looked up from her desk as Becca walked back in. She'd been carrying all her stress around since the start of the semester but with midterms coming up her emotions had been keyed up even more, almost to the point where Emilia mistook Becca's feelings for her own. Knowing this her roommate tried to keep her distance—especially when studying—just to give her a bit of a break.

Today, however, she returned to the room noticeably calmer. Emilia stopped chewing on the end of her stylus and set it down. "What's changed?"

"Hmm?" Becca dropped her PADDs on her desk and sat cross-legged on top of her bed. "Oh, Selas was helping me study and we had a little talk."

"Really? What about?"

"This and that."

Emilia eyed her closely, flicking her unruly, wavy, brown hair back over her shoulder. She sensed more than a little xeno-A&P studying went on between them. Looking over at Becca staring off into the middle distance she thought about pushing her for more details then thought better of it. Whatever Selas said to make her friend less stressed was working wonders for them both.


	15. Chapter 15

**An Unlooked for Job Offer**

_** Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, **_**2288.91, 1934 hours.** Yellow eyes darting over all the work piled high on his desk, the Errenant grimaced, his double set of nostrils flaring wildly with each inhalation of breath. No matter how hard he worked the paperwork just kept coming. _Dego! _Hirash thought. _Dego, dego, dego_*_!_

After the trial in October the Starfleet Council elected him as Commander Rourke's replacement and with his new post came a whole host of responsibilities and problems. Soledad had become a PR nightmare for the 'Fleet. He'd spent the last few months making numerous changes to the program and spreading the good word but recruitments were still down 16%; to add insult to injury the pool of admissions applicants was also much more…how did the Humans put it? Much more _generic_ than it had been in years past. The bright young minds of tomorrow didn't want to be part of a discriminatory organization, and after they way they'd been vilified in the press Hirash couldn't blame them.

_Still_…

He drummed his twelve fingers against the desktop as he considered his next move, silently cursing Rourke out all the while.

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, **_**2288.117, 1503 hours. **He'd instructed his aide, Ensign Olliver, to set-up the meeting as soon as possible. Now that he had permission and funding from the board to create the necessary positions at Soledad, Hirash wanted to be sure and secure the best candidates possible—and after everything Cadet Selas endured during his training he had no doubt the young Vulcan/Human male would welcome the opportunity to serve.

* * *

**1520 hours.** Selas emerged from his Introduction to Bajoran class with Jeffrey by his side. They were headed to the Space Disk Café just off campus for some much needed coffee and tea. His professors had been steadily increasing their workload as the semester began to draw to a close and both had been working double time to keep up. As they walked Jeffrey spoke at length about his upcoming summer assignment; since Selas would not require his services he was to remain in San Francisco cataloging and converting early 21st century historical records, specifically those pertaining to the UESPA*.

"I'm already bored out of my mind just thinking about it. All those MP3 files I have to switch over! What were they thinking?!" he lamented.

"The people of that era were likely thinking that MP3's were the most technologically advanced means of storing data."

"Oh sure, be all literal and logical," Jeffrey pouted.

Selas smirked. They were approaching the Café now and he could hear the bell attached to the old-fashioned wooden door tinkle as customers entered and exited. "You could have far worse assignments, Jeffrey, while I am not undertaking classes; for instance, you could be tasked with single handedly maintaining the extensive Academy grounds."

"But at least then I'd be outside instead of stuck in a dingy basement all day!" Reaching their destination, Jeffrey held the door open and Selas stepped inside. "Who's turn is it to buy, yours or mine?"

"Yours," Selas replied. "While you order I will procure a table for us."

"There's one along the wall," his companion stated as he pulled away. "Fourth one in."

Selas found the table with ease and staked his claim, all the while contemplating his own summer employment opportunities. He had not found any suitable positions yet but was still searching and knew that he would find seasonal work soon. Meanwhile, as he awaited Jeffrey's return he pulled out his PADD and checked his messages. At the top of the queue Selas discovered a note from a Commander Sil, requesting a meeting with him at 1600 hours today. Selas furrowed his brow—he was unfamiliar with the Commander and could not discern what business he or she could want with him.

The familiar plop of a cup being set down before him roused him from his PADD. "One Vulcan spice tea for you and one regular coffee for me." His concern must have shown because after taking an initial sip Jeffrey asked what was wrong.

"I have received a summons from a Commander Sil requesting a meeting in 27.4 minutes."

"And…?"

"And there is nothing more to tell," Selas informed him. "I have not yet been enlightened as to the nature of this meeting."

Jeffrey took another sip. "Hmm. That's odd."

Selas turned the PADD off and slipped it back in his pack. Given his experiences over the last 8.2 months he began mulling over numerous negative possibilities for the summons. "I concur."

* * *

**1559 hours.** He found the office with little difficulty and promptly presented himself to the administrator sitting just outside the Commander's door.

"Cadet Selas, reporting to Commander Sil as ordered," he declared, giving a smart salute.

"At ease, Cadet." Selas stood at parade rest. "Have a seat; I'll let him know you're here."

He sat in a chair in the hall and listened as the young man buzzed his superior officer. "Thank you, Titussssss," the Commander replied. 30.65 seconds later Selas was ushered inside.

He dutifully saluted his superior. "Commander Sil, Sir."

"Cadet Sssselassss, do come in. I thank you for coming on ssssuch ssssshort notice." Selas did as he was bid, his mind racing. Standard was obviously not the Commander's first language given his heavy accent but he could not readily discern what his first language was. He sat silently, hands folded over the cane and glasses in his lap, waiting for the Commander to speak again.

"Assss you may or may not know, I have inherited Commander Rourke'ssss possssition as overssssseer of the Sssssoledad Facility." Selas went rigid; he had not been aware of that fact as he had attempted to put all memories of Commander Rourke and last year's summer training out of his mind. "I sssee you did not know," Commander Sil said.

"No, Sir, I did not."

Both silently regarded the other for a moment before the Commander continued with his speech. "Ssssince my appointment I have implemented a number of changesss to the training ssstructure assss well assss the hierarchy at camp. Ssspecifically, two new posssitionsss have been created for sssstudent liaissssonsss to ssssee to the needsss of the new cadetsss. Their role will be to listen to any cadet concernssss and act accordingly, assss well assss advissse the training officersss of any changessss that may need to be made to the program."

While Commander Sil was clear, Selas was still having difficulty following the conversation. Was the Commander looking for his approval? Perhaps. Had there been someone in Soledad working in this capacity last summer Selas might not have had to endure the degree of difficulty he did under Commander Rourke's reign. "I understand. Such a position will certainly be beneficial for all involved."

"Thank you, however, I do not think you fully underssssstand," Commander Sil replied. "Cadet Sssselasss, I am offering you a job." His eyebrows flew up into the middle of his forehead; this was most unexpected news.

"Me?"

"Yesss. I can think of no one better qualified…can you?" No Selas could not; and while he did need the work he was uncertain as to whether he could stomach another six weeks in Soledad given all that came before. He quickly suppressed a grimace.

"May I have time to consider your offer?" he asked.

"Of course," the Commander graciously replied. "You may have 72 hoursss to think it over, at the end of which time ssshould you refussse I will need to draw up a list of potential candidatessss to replace you." This last statement served to reinforce what Selas already suspected—that there were no others readily available to take the position.

He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

**1832 hours.** "No!"

The friends were all gathered in the Mess eating dinner when he broke the news; Rebecca's knee jerk reaction was as much as he had anticipated.

"You can't be serious," Markus chimed in, his mouth full of food.

"On the contrary," Selas coolly replied, "I am most serious."

Even without seeing her he could feel Emilia's intense gaze closely scrutinizing him. "You really don't know what to do, do you?"

"No, I do not."

"Don't accept," Rebecca said rather hastily.

Beside him he heard Jamas set his utensils down. "Why shouldn't he? Commander Rourke won't be there and besides, he's already in Starfleet; it's not like he has to pass again just to qualify."

"Dude, just because Commander Hard Ass is gone doesn't mean it's going to easy." Melissa slid back into her seat just as Markus finished and asked what she had missed.

"Quite the opposite, actually," Emilia quietly chimed in. "The long-lasting psychological damage the Commander inflicted upon him will likely be amplified should he return to the very grounds where the injuries originally occurred."

"What injuries?"

"That's why it's such a bad idea," Rebecca replied, ignoring Melissa. She pushed her tray aside and shifted in her seat to face him more fully. "Don't do it, Selas. Don't take the job, it's not worth it."

He nodded to himself, taking all their advice into account. It suddenly occurred to him that one voice in particular had been conspicuously silent. "Paul?" Selas tentatively asked, pushing his lettuce around with his fork. "What are your thoughts?"

"Honestly?" he replied after a beat. "I don't know. It might be really good for you to go back, help out other cadets and at the same time resolve your own issues. You'd make a great advocate. On the flip side being there might just make things worse like Emilia said."

_Well put_, Selas thought, though he expected no less from his friend. Though they did not speak of it any more that evening he still felt Rebecca's reluctance about the scheme. Everyone else remained non-committal.

* * *

Selas meditated on the matter for the next 2.3 days, even going so far as to seek his parents' input; they informed him that no matter what he chose they would support his decision. Time and time again he caught himself in his musings harkening back to Paul's words.

_ You'd make a great advocate._

Ultimately Selas knew there was nothing for it; changes may have been made in the way the camp was run but his conscience would not allow him to rest easy until he experienced for himself that future cadets were being trained in a safe environment. The following morning he accepted Commander Sil's offer.

* * *

* "Dego" = Errenant, "Shit"

* UESPA = United Earth Space Probe Agency, precursor to Starfleet


	16. Chapter 16

**Skewed Priorities**

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, **_**2288.132, 1607 hours.** Selas waited patiently at the base of the library steps for Jeffrey's arrival. Final exams were next week and Jeffrey had agreed to use whatever extra time he had available to assist Selas in his studies; however, he was currently running 7.43 minutes late.

Just then he caught the sound of Jeff's distinctive gait, his prosthetic limb clicking with every step as he jogged over. "Sorry I'm late," he said a little breathlessly, "I had an appointment and the Doc was running behind."

"That is alright," Selas replied, starting up the steps. "Are you well?" He reached the first landing expecting an answer but Jeffrey was nowhere nearby. "Jeffrey?"

His friend scrambled up the steps. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm fine."

* * *

_** Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2288.136, 1420 hours.** They were holed up in a back table at the Space Disk, Selas reviewing his Introduction to Bajoran notes, when Jeffrey cursed beside him.

"What is it?" Selas asked, immediately relinquishing his hold.

"I spilled my damn coffee," his friend muttered darkly. This was extremely out of character; Jeffrey was an eternal optimist who almost never swore. He heard his friend frantically dab at the stain on his uniform. "Third time today that's happened."

He attempted to lighten the mood. "Perhaps you should consider switching to decaffeinated coffee," he teased.

Jeffrey missed the joke. "Yeah," he replied, "Maybe."

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, **_**2288.139, 1041 hours.** There was only 18.6 minutes left in his Origins of Humanoid Species exam. In his estimation the test was tough but fair and Selas did not think he would require all of the allotted time left available to him; he also did not think that Jeffrey would be able to keep his eyes open that much longer even if he did.

Over the last few days his 'seeing eye guy's' behavior had become increasingly erratic. At any given time of day Jeffrey would either be jittery or lethargic with no given cause. His skin had also taken on a clammy feel as if he was suffering from flop sweat. When Selas remarked upon these changes his friend dismissed them all and insisted he was well.

Now though, as much as he needed to finish his final he knew Jeffrey needed to get home and go to bed. Hopefully a day and a half of rest before their last exam would help his friend overcome whatever virus was plaguing his immune system.

* * *

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2288.141, 1458 hours.** For the eighth time that hour Selas watched a trickle of sweat drip down into Jeffrey's eye before he hastily wiped it away. All morning long it had been like this and he was having trouble concentrating on the PADD in front of him. Just three more sentences and he would be finished with his essay for his Standard Writing seminar and the semester would be over. Originally Selas wanted to take Jeffrey out for a late lunch to celebrate and thank him for all his hard work but now all he wanted to do was get Jeffrey to the Medical center.

Despite over 36 hours of rest Jeffrey's symptoms became more pronounced, not less. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin and his leg jangled unceasingly underneath the desk; he could even hear Jeffrey grinding his teeth. Selas needed no other inducement to finish his work.

"Time's up!" Professor Kustavic called from the front of the room. "Styluses down!" Everyone did as they were bid after electronically submitting their final work. No sooner had Selas sent his final essay along then Jeffrey hastily pulled his arm away and plunged him into darkness.

"Jeffrey…"

"You're all done, aren't you?" he asked shakily. He could hear Jeffrey pulling himself up to his feet.

"Yes, but…"

His friend was already shuffling out of the row and pulling away. "Ok then. Listen, I have to go."

Selas shoved his PADD in his bag and rushed to catch up. "Allow me to accompany you." They had been assigned seats in the front third of the lecture hall and so began making their way down the steps toward the nearest exit at the head of the class.

"That's really not necessary…"

He stopped Jeffrey mid-protest. "It is apparent that you are unwell; if you will just…"

Without warning his friend dropped and fell down several steps, his progress halted only by the press of students also making their escape. Behind him Selas heard a girl scream while a few other cadets collectively gasped as they watched the scene unfold. He dropped his bag and rushed to his friend's side; Jeffrey was unconscious. "Somebody call for a medic!" Bending down he groped for a hand and checked his pulse; his heart was racing. Bewildered by the spectacle before them his peers began to crowd around, suffocating them both. "Give us room!" he ordered.

Professor Kustavic pushed through the throng. "Help is on it's way." He carefully looked Jeffrey over. "He's very flush—has he been sick?"

"I believe so," Selas replied, "Though he would not admit as much to me." He held firm to Jeffrey's hand. It felt like hours but later Selas realized only 4.6 minutes passed between his friend's collapse and the medics arrival. They bore him away on a stretcher, scanning and checking his vitals while Selas raced behind.

* * *

_**Starfleet Medical Center, San Francisco, **_**2288.141, 1535 hours.** Markus, Jamas and Melissa had already returned home for the summer so while he waited in the lobby for word on Jeffrey's condition he contacted the rest of his friends. Rebecca was the first to arrive and she immediately dropped into the seat beside him, her handbag banging against the plastic. "How is he?"

"I do not know. He is with the doctors now but as I am not a blood relative they will not tell me anything more than that he is in critical but stable condition."

"Well at least he's stable," she muttered darkly. Rebecca slouched back against the seat. "Has his family been called?"

Selas shrugged. "I do not have their information, however, the nursing staff insisted that they would contact his parents."

"Well I'll keep an eye out for them." She slipped her hand into his and squeezed reassuringly. "He'll be alright, Selas. You'll see."

"Indeed." He was far less certain than Rebecca was about Jeffrey's recovery and so chose to cling to her blind hope.

Presently Paul and Emilia arrived, and as the hours passed Selas' parents joined them in their vigil. All six milled around the sitting room in various attitudes trying to keep the dark thoughts at bay as they awaited word of Jeffrey's condition and the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Pullman.

* * *

**1856 hours.** Rebecca and Sa-mekh went to collect some food from the hospital cafeteria while Paul excused himself to use the restroom. In the hallway Selas listened to his mother on her communicator talking quietly with her aide, leaving only him and Emilia in the waiting room when Jeffrey's parents finally arrived.

"I think they're here," she whispered to him a moment before the doors opened. Selas heard two pairs of feet—a man and a woman's—rush to the nurse's station.

"Yes?"

"Jeff Pullman?" the woman asked anxiously. "How is he? Can we see him?"

"Are you a relative?" the nurse smartly asked.

"I'm his mother." A tense moment passed as the nurse seemed to appraise Mrs. Pullman physically before filling her in. "Your son's in serious but stable condition right now and he seems to be improving. He's still in treatment at the moment but as soon as he's through I'll bring you around to see him."

"Thank you."

"This has to do with that damn bite that took his leg last year, doesn't it?" a gruff man's voice chimed in.

The nurse consulted her chart once more. "Yes, I'm afraid so. He let his RI levels get dangerously high; that's why he collapsed."

Selas stopped eavesdropping and sucked in a breath.

"_I have to have bi-weekly blood draws to check my RI levels; if they come back high than I have to go in for remedial irradiation treatment._"

"_Sorry I'm late. I had an appointment and the Doc was running behind._"

"_That is alright. Are you well?_"

"_I'm fine._"

Jeffrey had been far from fine for longer than Selas realized, and as his friend he should have been attuned to the potential danger much sooner. "This is my fault," he grimly admitted.

"What?" Emilia asked. "How? What'd they say?" Before he could answer Mr. and Mrs. Pullman entered the sitting area.

"I told that boy nothin' good would come of joining Starfleet," Jeffrey's father grumbled. "He should've stayed home like his brothers. First his leg and now this."

"Bill…"

"No, don't '_Bill_' me, Paula! That boy made his bed now he can go lie in it." He stomped back toward the door. "I'm going to get some coffee."

Emilia shrank back in her seat, the force of the negativity in the air no doubt overwhelming her, and Selas crossed the room to see if he could help ease some of Mrs. Pullman's distress. "Ma'am?"

"Yes…" She looked up and let out a quick gasp. "Oh! You must be that boy that Jeff's helping!"

He bristled at being called boy, however well-intentioned it may have been, and braced himself as he extended his hand. "Yes Ma'am, I am Selas. It is nice to meet you despite the circumstances."

"You too." She sounded distant, her thoughts elsewhere, and after several seconds recollected herself enough to shake his hand. "You'll have to excuse my husband," she said as he sat down next to her, "He's just anxious. We didn't get the message right away and then when we tried to get transport down here it was such a nightmare..."

Selas nodded. "I understand. May I be of assistance in any way?"

"Hmm? Oh no, no, that's quite alright. We'll be fine, thank you." He shuddered; mother and son both seemed to have a habit of undervaluing their own well-being. "You know, dear, you don't have to wait around with me. I'm sure you have much more important things to do. Jeff will call you when he's feeling better."

He did not move. "I can assure you that there is nothing more important to me than ascertaining Jeffrey's condition. If you will permit me I would like to remain here."

She shifted in her seat, and he felt the close scrutiny her gaze brought to bear on his being. "He's more to you than just his eyes, isn't he?"

Selas nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Pullman, he is. Jeffrey is my friend."

* * *

**1913 hours. **Sa-mekh and Rebecca came back laden with food and they broke bread with the Pullmans, swapping stories of Jeffrey's antics around campus to help keep their fears at bay. Selas had everybody laughing as he recounted Jeffrey's April Fool's day prank.

"He wore specially tinted contact lenses and did not tell me. I sat down to my first lecture of the day and the entire room was awash in blue. Jeffrey was laughing so hard he had to step out of the room for several minutes to compose himself."

"Jeff was always pulling stunts like that at home too," Mr. Pullman added after everyone had had a good laugh. While still upset he no longer sounded as irate as he had when he and his wife first walked in.

"With two older brothers it was the only defense he had," Mrs. Pullman chimed in.

Mr. Pullman continued, "I'll never forget the Halloween when he was about 13, he rigged up this whole system of ghosts and ghouls in the barn to scare his brothers. It was all very," there was a swish of air as he flourished his hands about, "elaborate."

"And?" Emilia asked from the edge of her seat.

"And he got 'em good, let me tell ya!"

Shortly thereafter Mr. and Mrs. Pullman were allowed to see their son. Now that Jeffrey was out of immediate danger the nurses encouraged everyone to return tomorrow during normal visiting hours to see their friend. Selas and Paul returned to their dorm room still distressed but grateful to learn that Jeffrey would survive.

* * *

_**Starfleet Medical Center, San Francisco, **_**2288.142, 0642 hours. **Sleep eluded him that evening and he awoke earlier than usual. He dressed quietly so as not to rouse Paul then headed toward the Space Disk where he ordered up his customary tea and dozens of coffees for take out. The nurses from the previous evening had not yet changed shift and recognized him as soon as he stepped onto the floor. With numerous well-placed drinks Selas was allowed to skirt normal visiting hours and silently took up a seat in Jeffrey's room, waiting for him to wake up.

* * *

**0757 hours.** The scent of Vulcan spice tea hung heavily in the air as he slowly blinked awake. His head still pounding, Jeff bit back a groan; he'd already worried everyone enough, especially Selas…there was no use giving him more to fret about. "Hey."

"Good morning," Selas replied.

"You been here all night?"

"No, the nurses would not allow it. I have only been here for the last 75.4 minutes." Jeff laughed. Only 75 minutes…then again he was more familiar than most with the extent of Selas' patience; 75 minutes probably wasn't all that much time for him. His friend's voice broke him out of his reverie. "You scared me yesterday, as well as my parents and our friends."

Jeff's heart sank to his stomach. "I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention."

"No?" Selas asked. "Then why did you not seek treatment as soon as you were informed of your elevated RI levels? You knew 10 days ago, did you not?"

Before he even opened his mouth he realized that all of his excuses suddenly sounded ridiculous. Still, Jeff tried to explain himself. "Yeah, I knew, but I didn't want to break your concentration; you were gearing up for finals and I…"

"Jeffrey, your health is far more important than my education. Had I been aware of how ill you truly were alternative arrangements could have been made while you sought the necessary medical attention."

"I see that now," he admitted. "I thought I had everything under control but that last day was just too much."

Selas nodded. "I understand; however, I want you to promise me that in the future you will not jeopardize your health because of my course load. I am appreciative of your work as my 'seeing eye guy' but I value our friendship even more than that and for you to fall ill on my account grieves me greatly."

_Well shit._ They'd come a long way since that first meeting in Admiral Pike's office and if Jeff hadn't felt bad before he certainly felt terrible now. "I promise," he said, not trusting himself to say anything more without blubbering in an unmanly fashion.

"Good."

And that was the last word said on the matter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Return to Soledad**

_** Starfleet Academy Headquarters, San Francisco,**_** 2288.188, 0857 hours.** Selas settled into his seat at the conference table and turned toward the front of the room. Commander Sil had scheduled an orientation meeting for all personnel a week prior to the start of training camp and he reported for duty as ordered. He listened to the superior officers as they trickled into the room, gathering in small groups and chatting amongst themselves, selecting their seats and collecting cups of coffee from the replicators along the far wall. Selas was far too anxious to do any of those things and was content to sit and wait for the proceedings to begin.

"Hi." The voice belonged to a cheery young woman seated to his left.

"Hello."

"I'm Anissa Roy, the other cadet liaison."

He nodded. "It is pleasing to make your acquaintance. I am..."

"Oh I know who you are," Anissa interjected. "I've seen you around campus and besides, you're kind of famous."

One eyebrow slowly rose. "Indeed?"

"Of course. There's your parents, for one thing, and then that whole trial last Fall. You're pretty well known."

Selas suppressed a grimace. "I see."

Commander Sil walked into the room before Anissa could add anything further, and for that Selas was grateful. Despite his pride in them and their numerous accomplishments Selas was never comfortable with the celebrity his famous parents brought to bear on his own life, a sentiment he and his siblings shared. Meanwhile, Commander Sil opened the meeting by thanking everyone for their attendance and expressing his hopes for a successful summer session. He then went on to address the scandal that rocked Starfleet at the conclusion of last year's camp and outlined specific alterations he had made to the training regimen and the day-to-day operations as a result of Commander Rourke's disgrace.

"I would now like to introduce you to our cadet liaissssons, Cadetssss Roy and Ssselasss. Thisss isss a newly created posssition thisss year. The purposssse of the cadetssss' presssence isss to mediate any isssssuessss that might arissse between the traineesss and their ssssuperior officersss. They will ussssse their bessst judgment when lisssstening to the cadetsss and determine if there isss any missstreatment." The Commander paused and took a sip of his beverage. "Doesss anyone have any quessstionss? Cadetsss, would you like to add anything?"

Selas shook his head no but Anissa piped up for both of them. "Don't think of us as spies," she said, making him wince. Until she opened her mouth their superiors likely had not thought of them in that fashion, nor did he consider himself a spy. His initial dislike of Anissa was growing. "Think of us as facilitators. We're here to try and make your job easier. If the cadets get homesick or if they think they're being treated unfairly they can bend our ear instead of wasting your valuable time. All we want to do," here she placed a hand on his arm, "Is just make things easier for you." She re-took her seat.

"Thank you, Cadet. Now for our next order of busssinesssss…"

Camp had not even begun and Selas was already dreading the next 7.1 weeks.

* * *

_** Starfleet Transport Station, San Francisco,**_** 2288.195, 1300 hours.** Sa-mekh dropped him off early at the transport station; Mama had said her good-byes earlier in the day so there would be no need for lingering farewells like last year. Other things would be different this summer too, Selas assured himself as he felt for the personal communicator in his pocket. He would be able to contact people outside of Soledad at any given time should he require assistance.

Sa-mekh rolled the passenger side window down and leaned over as Selas climbed out and retrieved his duffle from the back seat. "I will see you in 6 weeks, sa-fu. Stay safe."

His sa-mekh's concern seeped across the bond. "Ha, Sa-mekh. Farewell until then."

Gripping the strap of his duffle he stepped back onto the curb and turned toward the hangar where he was to assist with the check-in. As he approached the table he was not surprised to discover that Anissa was already present. "Hey Selas, how's it going?"

"I am well," he automatically replied, though in truth he felt far differently. "And how are you, Anissa?"

"I'm great! This is so exciting, getting to meet the new cadets, helping to shape young minds…"

"I do not believe we will have as much influence over the incoming class as your words would suggest," Selas replied. "We must also keep in mind that there are at least 16 cadet candidates who are in fact older than us." He pulled out a chair beside her and sat down. Anissa placed a check-in PADD in his hands and Selas quickly scrolled through, re-acclimating himself to the list of incoming trainees.

"I know, but…" She lowered her voice and hesitated briefly before leaning over and whispering, "We're going to be responsible for _something_, right? I mean, this job isn't all just for show, there will be actual work involved…"

Selas bristled at the very idea. It had not occurred to him that Commander Sil would create a position such as this solely for the purpose of repairing public relations. "I certainly hope that that is not the case."

Anissa regarding him closely a moment longer before shifting back to her normal posture. For the next 84 minutes they prepped the area and greeted superior officers as they arrived. The sun was high and warming him thoroughly despite the flimsy canopy shading overhead when the first cadets arrived. They stood at a distance from the registration tables and Selas listened to the murmured endearments and promises of safety and hard work exchanged between family and friends and cadets. He involuntarily tensed, recalling his own leave-taking the previous year, until the first trainee broke free from the civilians and stepped up to the table.

The person before him snapped a salute. "Todd Havelitch, reporting for duty."

Selas ran his finger across the PADD. "At ease, Cadet." He found the cadet's file and called it up, switching from Braille view to normal view before handing it over. "Sign here and place your right thumb in the white square in the bottom corner."

"Yes, Sir." The young man's deference to him made Selas appear more important than he was but he did not know how to disabuse him of the notion. The PADD signed, Cadet Havelitch passed it back across the table and picked up his duffle, turning toward the shuttle. "Thank you, Sir."

A steady stream of cadets began to approach the table after Cadet Havelitch, keeping Selas occupied until 5.2 minutes before departure. Working alongside Anissa he collected the PADDs, turned them over to Lieutenant Commander Farnsworth, then climbed the steps to the transport to take a seat near the door. A quick 25.7 minute jaunt later and they would be in Soledad.

Though his expression did not waiver his heart raced.

* * *

Little had changed in Soledad in the intervening year and the dust kicked up under his feet as he made his way to the dorms. Although he would be living alongside the cadets he had his own room and was not required to participate in the rigorous drills; still, Selas knew it would be foolish not to maintain his physical fitness regime for when he returned to the Academy in the Fall.

The first few days went by smoothly with little for him to do aside from breaking up a petty squabble in the middle of the floor of the dorm on the third night. On the evening of his fifth night at camp Selas pulled out his meditation mat and sat in the center of the floor of his room in the lotus position. He was finding each day marginally easier to endure than the last but he still needed the opportunity to find his center. Selas was about to slip into the first layer of meditation when the door chime sounded.

His eyes flew open. "Come in."

"Selas?" Anissa poked her head around the door. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you."

"Is there something I can assist you with?"

She shuffled into the room. "No, I just…sorry, it sounds silly now, but a bunch of us were going to head into town to this little Mexican restaurant for dinner and I wanted to know if you wanted to come."

He furrowed his brow. Fraternizing with the incoming class was ill-advised given their positions. "Cadets are not allowed to leave campus."

"Trainees, no, but you and me and the other officers can. This isn't our summer session, Selas, we can go if we want to."

_Ah_. Well that certainly clarified things for him. "I appreciate the offer, however, I have great need of meditation this evening." Truer words were never spoken.

"Ok," Anissa replied, her tone cheery and bright. "Want a quesadilla if I bring one back?"

He grinned. "That would be acceptable, thank you, Anissa."

"You're welcome. See you in a bit!"

As she dashed off he squirmed in his seat before settling back into a light layer of meditation. Envisioning the flame of the asenoi Sa-mekh had shown him all those years ago Selas could not help but think upon what his colleague had said. _This isn't our summer session._ Anissa may not have thought too deeply on what she was saying but as he repeated her words he realized her consul was true; the sooner he realized that this was not _his_ summer session the easier it would be for him emotionally and he would be able to do his job and do it well.

2.3 hours later Anissa returned with a take-away carton bearing the offered quesadilla and Selas invited her in to share it with him as she described her meal with the other officers. An hour later when they parted ways to turn in he resolved that on the next outing he would join her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Seeking Help**

_** Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California,**_** 2288.204, 1915 hours.** Thus far there had been no major incidents for Selas to report higher up the chain of command and he was glad for it. While there had been 2 separate cadet complaints made against instructors, upon closer investigation he and Anissa discovered that the cadets simply did not take constructive criticism well and were not being verbally or physically abused. The cadets were reprimanded for making false reports and sent on their way.

This evening was as quiet as all the rest and after dinner he and Anissa headed back to the dorm with Anissa talking the whole way, the pair having become friendlier as camp went on. Indeed, Selas quickly discovered that she did not need much encouragement to start talking and when she began chatting she carried on with seemingly no end. Currently she was recounting a disastrous hair experiment that took place prior to her Starfleet admission interview.

"…so I told my friend Farrah I wanted something new and she started cutting and tweaking and braiding—before I knew it I had hair sticking up every which way and I looked like freaking Medusa! I swear, I actually screamed when I saw myself and my friend couldn't figure out why I didn't like it!"

"That does indeed sound horrible," he replied as they entered the building. He thought they would go their separate ways but Anissa continued following him to his room.

"And I only had like 2 hours to try and fix it before my meeting, which wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't used this super strong hairspray and…hi." She stopped short, surprised, and he followed suit.

"Hi."

The voice was familiar and Selas searched his memory. _Cadet…_ "Good evening, Cadet Havelitch."

"Whoa," the young man in question exclaimed. "You're good." Selas tipped his head at the compliment. An awkward silence fell and the cadet began leaning back and grinding his heels into the carpet. "Um, I was wondering if I might speak to you about something…"

"Of course."

"Alone?"

Before he could ask Anissa made her polite good-byes and left. Palming the door code Selas entered first accompanied by the anxious young Havelitch who sat in the desk chair opposite his bed. Selas waited for him to speak.

"So, um, you're here to help people, right?"

"That is the function of my job, yes."

Todd swiveled a little back and forth in his seat; clearly he was uncomfortable. Selas wondered if he and Anissa had missed something when they were observing drills. "Is it only, like, if you have problems with other people, or other kinds of problems too?"

Selas took a breath. "The scope of my work here is not so strictly defined as you have assumed. Perhaps if you inform me of your problem than I may determine if I can be of assistance or, if I am unable, I can find you someone who is more qualified."

"Ok." Todd swung around one more time and took another deep breath before stopping. "Ok. Here goes. So I'm, uh, having trouble at the phaser range."

One eyebrow rose slowly. "I see." Lieutenant Morrison, who was in charge of phaser training, had been nothing but professional throughout these first 9 days of camp. Perhaps there was something Selas had overlooked. "Could you elaborate more on what type of issue you are having?"

"Well…the Lieutenant said my aim needs a lot of work—like, _A LOT_. He said I must be blind because I couldn't hit the broadside of a barn."

Selas smirked. "Even I could hit the broadside of a barn."

At that all that tension seemed to rush out of Cadet Havelitch. "I know, right?! That was my first thought too!" Catching himself he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, what I meant was I figured even you had to pass phaser training when you were in basic and since I'm having such a hard time…"

"Then maybe I was in a position to help you improve your aim."

"Yeah." The back of the desk chair squeaked as Todd leaned back. "Yeah, that's it exactly."

He considered the request very carefully for several minutes, the loose outline of a plan beginning to form as Todd shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I will need time to make inquiries and preparations," Selas finally declared. "I will contact you if and when I am able to assist you."

"Thanks." Todd sprang up from his seat and took Selas' hand, pumping it furiously in gratitude. "I really appreciate it."

"You are most welcome, although I have done nothing of consequence for you yet."

"Hey, I'm just grateful you said you'd help me. Trust me, that's enough."

_Very true,_ Selas mused as Todd bid him good-night.

* * *

_** Starfleet Training Facility Outside Soledad, California,**_** 2288.206, 1959 hours. **Selas spent the last 2.07 days mulling over Todd's predicament and making some calls. Once the situation was explained to Lieutenant Morrison he received his blessing, Commander Sil was then called upon to give his permission; after that Selas was able to secure the phaser range for an hour and a half after dinner that evening. He also contacted Jeffrey to see if he would be able to join them; he had yet to arrive, but Cadet Havelitch was right on time.

"Hey." The Cadet's voice echoed in the cavernous space.

"Good evening," Selas replied, "I have secured this space for the next 90 minutes with the possibility of additional evenings should they prove necessary."

"Ok, great." He could hear Todd moving toward him and stop half a meter away, awaiting further instruction. "So how do we…?"

Before he could reply Jeffrey burst through the doors. "I'm here!" He hurried over and came to stop beside Todd, breathing heavily. "Had a little trouble with the transport but I'm here."

"Thank you, Jeffrey. I appreciate your coming. Cadet Havelitch, this is my friend Ensign Jeffrey Pullman; he will be assisting us this evening."

"Oook." The two shook hands.

Without warning Selas felt a rubber ball pressed into his hands. "I brought that thing you asked for," Jeffrey declared.

"Very good. We can begin."

For the next 75 minutes Selas ran Todd through numerous minor drills—throwing and catching a ball, testing his visual acuity, analyzing his poor aim. Jeffrey was instrumental in all these tests and offered numerous insights that Selas was then able to use to instruct the young cadet. The evening concluded with Todd being blindfolded and forced to rely on his hearing to hit his targets—much as Selas had done last summer.

When their time was up Cadet Havelitch declared he was 'beat' and retreated to his dormitory and the comfort of his bed with many thanks to his teachers; meanwhile Jeffrey lingered and assisted in the miniscule clean up effort.

"He's inconsistent, but when he does get near the target he pulls high and to the left," he remarked, taking the phasers from Selas and putting them away in the storage closet. "Less so when he was blindfolded, but still. He did it when we were playing catch too. I think he just needs to be retrained to anticipate that that's just how he pulls."

"Understood." Selas disengaged the electronic targets and listened to the hum of machinery powering down. "You assistance this evening has proved most invaluable, Jeffrey. I thank you again for taking the time from your busy schedule to come out here."

"Yeah, about that…" Jeffrey drifted closer and Selas stood at parade rest, waiting to hear what his friend had to say. "I won't be able to come back out here. Not that I don't want to help," he hastened to add, "I do, but Starfleet has me doing some work for them and it's top priority. I don't think I'll be able to get away from San Francisco at all for the rest of the summer."

Selas frowned. "That is most unfortunate."

He listened as his friend shrugged then guided them both toward the exit. "It is and it isn't. It's my area of expertise and the research is really exciting but I wish I could help more; Todd seems like a good kid."

One eyebrow rose. "Your work sounds most intriguing. May I inquire as to the specifics of what you are working on?"

"Sorry, but no." Again, Jeffrey sounded truly disheartened. "I'm afraid it's classified. I probably already said too much as it is. Sorry."

"You need not apologize," Selas reassured him as they stepped out toward the quad. "I am pleased that you are content in your summer employment. You have often decried that you wished to be useful and now you state that you are."

"I am. I'm happy _and_ useful." He realized that his friend was leading him to the transport station. "But what about you? Are you happy here?"

Selas held fast to Jeffrey's elbow and spent several seconds in silence. "I find I am useful," he at last declared, "But as far as happiness goes all I can say is that I am slowly growing content. It is…_difficult_ to let go of the past."

"I think I understand." Having arrived at the transport station Jeffrey disengaged his arm and took a step up to the platform. "For what it's worth—and I know I haven't seen much—I definitely think you're doing a lot of good."

"Truly?"

"Yes." He took another step up and instructed the person at the controls to send him to Headquarters. "Even if you only help one cadet, that's one more that might've fallen through the cracks otherwise."

This was very sage advice and Selas nodded and raised his hand in the ta'al. "Thank you, Jeffrey. Live long and prosper."

"You too," his friend replied; Selas could picture the smirk on Jeffrey's face. "See you in September."

After that first session Selas asked Anissa for her help. The next time they met Todd he was a little hesitant around her but with Anissa's useful tips and gentle coaxing she soon set him at ease. The three of them met on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and with the help of both of his instructors Todd's aim slowly and steadily improved. At his last test before his survival assignment Cadet Havelitch was ranked in the top 12th percentile in his class.

* * *

**A/N:** Another weird little exposition chapter…sorry!


	19. Chapter 19

**Unrequited**

_**La Cantina Rosa Restaurant, Soledad, California,**_** 2288.225, 2023 hours.** Camp was officially over in 2 days when the rest of the cadets returned from their survival assignments, but the staff were currently in town at their favorite hang out blowing off steam and celebrating the end of a successful summer session. Despite their disparate ranks they had formed a tight bond and Selas smirked into his glass of soda at the drunken conversation taking place around him.

"Ok," Lieutenant Molina exclaimed after taking a huge drought of beer. "Name the best ship you've ever worked on. Go!"

"Uhh," Ensign Thurgood stuttered. Selas listened to him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. "That'd be the only ship I've been on, the _Lexington_."

"Kid," Lieutenant Commander Donaghue added, "You don't know what good is 'til you've done a tour aboard the _Kennedy_. Best ship by far in my 11 year career!"

Lieutenant Molina chimed in at that. "I don't know about that, Ellen; the _Monitor_ is one _very _sweet ride. Hell, I'd 'swab the poop deck' everyday if it meant I got to be aboard!"

"Rudy," the Lieutenant Commander countered good-naturedly, "You don't even know what a poop deck is!"

They all burst out laughing at that and clanked their glasses loudly against the tabletop. "To poop decks!" someone led the charge.

He raised his soda glass and cheered in obligingly with everyone else. "To poop decks!"

Beside him he heard Anissa finish her drink and set the empty glass aside. "Actually," she said, "A poop deck is a nautical term. It used to refer to the deck in the aft part of a ship that formed the roof of the cabin below it."

The whole table went silent for several seconds. "How do you even know that?!" Lieutenant Zukowski cried.

Anissa shrugged. "I don't know, just do." Another chorus of laughter rang out long and loud throughout the restaurant.

"Ok then." Under his breath, Zukowski added to Lieutenant Molina, "They keep recruitin' 'em stranger and stranger!"

Rudy laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "Carl, have you ever even _looked_ in a mirror?"

From the other end of the table Lieutenant Fershek called out to one of the wait staff and ordered another round for everyone before returning to the original conversation. "I always thought the _Enterprise _was the best ship to work on." Selas cocked his head and turned toward the opposite end of the table. He could not recall ever encountering Lieutenant Fershek in all his years aboard the former flagship and asked him when he served. "Oh, I wasn't that lucky," the Lieutenant informed him, "I spent 6 weeks as a cadet doing repairs the last time she was in space dock. I put in a request for after I graduated but she was gone before I got the chance."

He nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "She was truly a great ship; I was most fortunate to live on her when I did," he said wistfully. The table went quiet and Anissa patted him sympathetically on the arm.

"To the _Enterprise_!" came Lieutenant Commander Donaghue's rallying cry.

"To the _Enterprise_!"

Their cheer made his heart ache for the lost ship but Selas could not sit in sadness long as the rest of his company's lively, high-spirited chatter soon drew him back in and put him in a better mood. Fresh drinks were distributed around the table.

"To the end of camp!" Lieutenant Molina cried out as soon as his glass was in hand.

Everyone raised their glasses. "To the end of camp!"

* * *

**2256 hours. **"Ugh." Anissa leaned against him for support as they slowly trudged back to the cadet dorms. "I think I ate my weight in tacos tonight."

"It was my understanding that you only ate two," he replied as he palmed the front door code. "So unless each taco weighed approximately 26.12 kilograms than your previous statement would be erroneous."

She gasped. "How do you know how much I weigh?!"

Selas strode on down the hall toward his room. The floor was unusually quiet due to the number of cadets still out on assignment. "I made an educated guess."

Anissa lagged a few steps behind him spluttering incoherently. He was already at his door when she exclaimed, "I'll have you know those tacos would have to be 24 kilos apiece, not 26!"

He nodded condescendingly in her direction. "Very well; I stand corrected. Good night, Anissa."

The door was about to close when she stopped it. "Wait, Selas…" He turned to face her and she pressed her lips to his in an awkward kiss with a clash of teeth. The force of her motion propelled them both backward into his room, causing the door to shut behind them. Selas stiffened, completely stunned by her maneuver, and it took Anissa a moment to realize this and back away. "What's the matter?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Because if I didn't do it now I knew I was gonna lose my nerve again."

_There had been other instances where she had almost kissed him_? "Agai—…?" The question died on his lips as Anissa kissed him a second time; he stumbled back until he hit the wall then gently pried her off of him.

"What's the matter?" she asked, hurt evident in her tone, "Don't you like me?"

"Anissa…"

"Aren't I a good kisser?"

"That is not…"

She leaned in close. "I know for a fact there isn't anybody else."

He furrowed his brow. "How do you…?"

"Oh my G-d," she gasped, "Are you gay?"

"I…"

"Because if you are I'm totally sorry…"

Selas finally lost his patience at her constant interruptions. "Anissa, would you please allow me to speak?" He stepped around her and stalked off to the other side of the room, quietly fuming.

"Sorry." The desk chair squeaked as she sat down and he paced alongside his bed collecting his thoughts. Her actions had caught him completely off-guard and he did not want to hurt her feelings.

"I want you to know that I value our friendship a great deal. Also, your assistance these last few weeks has been invaluable, not only to me, but to Cadet Havelitch and numerous other trainees as well."

"Oh." Her voice was thick with disappointment. "But?"

"But it has just been made obvious to me that you possess a degree of affection for me that I do not equally return and it would be unfair to you to claim otherwise."

She was silent for a moment then asked hopefully, "Do not?"

"Cannot," he firmly amended.

"I see," she said meekly.

Selas listened to her take several shallow breaths as she attempted to stave off tears. He stepped forward and crouched down beside her. "I apologize for upsetting you. If I have mislead you over the course of the last 6.1 weeks than I was wholly unwitting and for that I also apologize."

Anissa swiveled in her seat. "Thanks," she said with a sniffle, "Not for rejecting me, I mean—that sucks A LOT—but for being honest." She leaned in for a gentle hug which he was happy to return, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she got over the worst of her hurt. "Do you think that maybe…?"

He pulled back to properly face her. "Yes?"

"Do you think that maybe you could _learn_ to like me like that? In time?"

Selas considered the question a moment before responding. "I think that I would greatly prefer it if we were to remain friends."

"Oh." She hiccupped once and rose from her chair. "Ok." Reaching the door she palmed it open and lingered inside a split second longer. "G'night."

Once she was gone Selas ran a hand down his face and sighed. Walking toward the bed he laid down atop the comforter and ran over the evening's events; it was a far cry from how he imagined this year's camp would end and yet of the two summers he had spent in Soledad he was uncertain as to which was more painful.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Hi all! Just wanted to take a second and let you know that this is the last chapter for Selas' story that I'll be posting for awhile, so please take a minute to put either "Rising Son" or me, Wahoogal06, in your alerts so you don't miss any updates. I'll be moving back to T'Alora's story, "Forging Her Own Path" for a bit until the two timelines collide; and don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Se'tak either. He'll pop up again in his siblings' stories as well as in his own work in the future.

Thanks again for sticking with me all this time! You're a great audience to write for and I'm glad to have you. Happy Reading!

* * *

**Course Correction — Part II**

_**Starfleet Academy, San Francisco,**_** 2288.249, 0924 hours.** His first class of the new semester was about to start in 6.3 minutes. Selas settled into his seat, the sharp creases of his new uniform scratching his skin as it bent to accommodate his long limbs, and began pulling out a PADD and stylus while Jeffrey kept up a steady stream of chatter beside him.

"Man, another year, I can't believe it." Selas listened to him absently roll up his shirt sleeve as he took a good look around. "'Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in!'" Jeffrey cried in an exaggerated, throaty tone of voice.

Selas raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," his friend said, "Just a line from an old movie my grandfather liked."

"I see." He powered up the PADD and reviewed the syllabus for the fifth time.

Jeffrey leaned over to try and get a look even though it was in Braille. "Hey, what class is this again? Children and Culture?"

"No, that class does not meet until Wednesday morning. This is Sex and Genders in Anthropological Perspective."

"Sounds interesting."

Selas nodded and continued running his fingers along the raised type on his PADD as another cadet filed into the row. No sooner had they sat down beside him then he caught the distinct aroma of cherry blossoms wafting his way and eagerly turned to his right. "Rebecca?"

He could practically hear her grin. "The one and only," she cheerily replied. Seeing the look on his face made her laugh out loud. "And here I thought I couldn't surprise you!"

"What are you doing here? I did not think your medical track course load allowed you to take classes such as this?"

"It doesn't." Selas waited for Rebecca to elaborate further but she pointedly avoided the subject. "Mind if we talk about it after class, maybe over some coffee?" She sounded concerned but he would do as she bid and address the issue once the lecture was over. Shaking the stupefied look off his face Selas picked up his stylus and reached out for Jeffrey's arm. He blinked rapidly against the bright overhead lights as the professor walked in through the side door.

"Good morning, class," Professor Lissan called out as she stepped up to the podium, "And welcome to XAN260, Sex and Genders in Anthropological Perspective; if this isn't what you signed up for then you now know you're in the wrong room." A couple cadets shifted in their seat and made their exits amidst laughter from the class; once they cleared out the professor began again in earnest and soon Selas was too busy taking notes to puzzle over Rebecca's appearance.

* * *

**1057 hours.** The lecture concluded, Selas, Rebecca, and Jeffrey parted ways, the latter headed off to the lab to continue work on his confidential summer project while the former pair made their way to the Space Disk. Rebecca took a table by the front window and looked out at the busy street as he ordered their drinks.

"Large coffee," he announced, sliding the mug across the tabletop as he took his seat, "Extra milk, no sugar."

"Thanks." She wrapped both hands around the cup a moment before bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. "Ahh, that hits the spot." Rebecca set the cup back down. "So you're probably wondering what's up."

"Indeed I am."

She drummed her fingers along the table top. "Remember my epic breakdown last Spring? Just before midterms?"

"Of course." As if his memory required the prodding.

"Well I spent a long time thinking about what you said. I even made a pro/con list." He smirked; Rebecca was infamous for her list-making. She reached out and lightly smacked him on the arm. "Shut up, you know I need my lists! Besides, they work. After midterms I went and talked with my advisor and we came up with a plan." She took another sip of her coffee. "As of last semester I'm no longer on the medical track," she confidently informed him, "I changed my focus. I'm officially studying xenoanthropology now, same as you."

Selas was floored. Not only was he surprised by her change of plans but he was stunned she was able to take 200 level courses considering she did not take any 100 level courses the previous year. "How is this possible? And why xenoanthropology?"

"A damned lot of hard work, that's how," Rebecca replied. "After I broke the news to my parents I came back here and spent the summer taking classes to try and catch up. I still have a few that I need to squeeze in between now and the end of next summer if I want to graduate on time but it's nothing I can't handle. As for the why…" her voice trailed off and he listened to her turn her head to look out the window, studying the passersby.

"I don't know about you," she said, her voice considerably lower, "But back when we were kids…well I know you can't forget Unohdettu and neither could I. All that time we spent learning about that culture while trying to find your mom—it changed me; it changed me a lot. At first I thought my interest in people and cultures was just a passing thing, like how you enjoyed painting or how Se'tak liked studying history…"

"I still enjoy painting; however, I have very little time for my art these days."

"I know." Rebecca turned to face him and shook her head. "Bad example. The point is, practically since I was born everyone always assumed I'd go the medical route and I never thought I had any other choice until you told me differently. When I started thinking about what _I _wanted and what _I _liked the answer was clear as day."

"And that answer was xenoanthropology," Selas concluded.

"Yes."

He nodded and took a sip of his tea. "How did your parents take the news?"

Selas listened to her squeeze the cup a little tighter. "Honestly?" He nodded. "Not well. Dad was so upset he couldn't even speak."

Both eyebrows flew up into his hairline. His uncle had been left speechless? "Whoa."

"I know, right? Mom was pretty upset too. No, that's not the right word." Rebecca paused as she attempted to hit upon the proper sentiment. "She was disappointed. With Jo-Jo a psychologist and Tabby still trying to figure out what her specialty will be I think Mom was just really looking forward to having another nurse in the family." She sighed heavily. "Then I went and busted up that dream…"

Selas reached out and patted her hand sympathetically. "Perhaps that was the case but your parents must also realize that you have dreams of your own." Rebecca's decision to follow through on his advice stunned him and yet he was pleased that she was now pursuing a course of study that coincided with her own interests; that they mirrored his own was merely a fringe benefit. She squeezed his hand back. "How are your parents now that they have had ample time to process your change of plans?"

"I think…" she trailed off and stared out the window again. "I think they're proud of me," she said at last. "I think they're proud of me for making my own choice and standing by it. They may not understand or even agree with what I'm doing but I know ultimately they just want me to be happy."

"It is what every parent wants." Selas thought of his own parents; even when their actions had inadvertently caused him grief his parents informed him that they had only acted in his best interest. "And if studying xenoanthropology makes you happy and causes you less stress than I am also pleased by your choice."

Rebecca finished the last of her beverage and set it down on the table. "I'm happy to hear that because now that we're in the same field we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other. I was even thinking of asking you to join a study group I've started up with a few other cadets…"

"I am willing to join your study group and am pleased to be of assistance to you in any way," Selas interrupted before she was through.

"Thanks."

They sat in silence, Rebecca looking at him, Selas staring blankly back fully supporting her, before she abruptly rose from her chair. "I'm hungry, I think I'm going to get something to eat. You want anything?"

"No, thank you." However, she departed before he had fully given voice to his refusal. In her absence he began to envision the future and what it would be like working and studying alongside his best friend…

…and with those images in mind he had to smile.


End file.
